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THE 



ORIGIN AND HISTORY 



ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 



THE EARLY LITERATURE IT EMBODIES. 



GEOEGE P/MAESH, 

AUTHOR OP "lectures ON THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE," ETC., ETC. 



THIED EDITION. 



NEW YORK: 
PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER & 00. 

1869. 



Triors 



JUN 5 ii07 

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by 

CHAELES SCEIBNEE, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of 

New York. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The lectures which compose the present volume 
were delivered at the Lowell Institute, in Boston, 
Massachusetts, in the autumn and winter of 1860 
-1861, and they are now published, for the benefit of 
the author, by the liberal permission of the Trustees 
of that noble foundation. They wei;e prepared in the 
summer preceding, with such aids only as my private 
library afforded ; and my departure from the United 
States in the spring of 1861, together with the want 
of access to collections of English books abroad, has 
prevented me from giving them such a revision as I 
hoped to be able to bestow upon them. They are 
printed, therefore, very nearly as they were originally 
written ; and I have not thought myself bound to 
suppress opinions advanced, or illustrations employed, 
in the delivery of the lectures, barely because they 
are published under circumstances different from those 
in which they were read. 

It is proper to add that the frequent references ia 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

the foot-notes and elsewhere to the "First Series," 
apply to the fourth edition of a course of lectures on 
the English Language, delivered by me at New York, 
and published in 1861 by Scribner in that city, and 
by Sampson Low, Son and Co., in London. 

Geoege p. Maesh. 

London, September 30, 1862. 



CONTENTS. 



XECTUKE I. 
Intboductout ••;.•••• 

LECTUEE n. 
Origin and Composition of tub Anglo-Saxon People and theie Lan- 



• 41 



LECTUEE III. 
Anglo-Saxon Yocaijltlaey, Liteeatttee, and Geainemar • • » 88 

LECTUEE rV^. 
Semi-Saxon Liteeatueb , • . • • • «13S 



LECTUEE y. 

English Language and Liteeatueb of the Fiest Peeiod: feom the 
Middle of the Thieteenth to the Middle op the Foueteenth 
Centuey ......»•• 199 



LECTUEE VL 

Commencement of Second Period : feom 1350 to the time of thb 
Authoe of Piees Ploughman ••..•• 25? 



71 CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

LECTUKE Vn. 
The Author of Piers Ploughman and his Imitators , • .295 

LECTUEE Vm. 
Wycliffe and his School * •»•••• 339 

LECTURE IX. 
Chaucer and Goweb • . . • • • • 379 

LECTURE X. 

The English Language and Literature from the Beginning of the 
Fifteenth Century to the time of Caxton .... 454 

i:ecture XI. 

The English Language and Literature from Caxton to the Accession 
OF Elizabeth . , . . , , , . 482. 

LECTURE Xn. 
The English Language and Litebature during the beign of Eliza- 

BBTU « •« • • • . . 53S 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL LIST OF WORKS CITED IN THESE 
LECTURES. 



Alexanders Saga, ■udgiven af linger, 1848, 1 B. 8vo. ^ 

Alfred (King) Anglo-Saxon Version of Boethius de Consolatione Philosopliiae, 
edited by Cardale, London, 1829, 1 vol. 8yo. 

— Anglo-Saxon Version of tlie History of Paulus Orosins, with, a translation by 

Thorpe, in Pauli's Life of Alfred the Great. See Fauli. 

Alfric or Aelfric, Homilies published by the Aelfric Society, London, 2 vols. Svo. 

Alisaunder Kyng, in Weber's Metrical Eomances, Vol. 1. 

Ancren Eiwle, The Ancren Eiwle, a Treatise on the Eules and Duties of Monastic 

Life, edited and translated for the Camden Society, by James Morton, London, 

1853, 1 vol. 4to. 
Anecdota Literaria, a Collection of Short Poems in English, Latin and French, 

illustratiye of the Literature and History of England in the Thirteenth Century, 

edited by T. Wright, London, 1845, 1 vol. Svo. 
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, The Saxon Chronicle, witli an English translation by 

J. Ingram, London, 1823, 1 vol. 4to. 

— The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, edited, -wdth a translation, by B. Thorpe, London, 

1861, 2 vols. 8vo. in the series Eerum Britannicarum Medii Aevi Scriptores, 

or Chronicles and Memorials of Great Britain and L'eland during the 

Middle Ages. 

Anglo-Saxon Gospels, The Anglo-Saxon Version of the Holy Gospels, edited by 

B. Thorpe, reprinted by L. F. Klipstein, New York, 1846, 1 voL 12mo. See, 

also. Gospels. 

Arnold, The Customs of Loudon, otherwise called Arnold's Chronicle, reprinted, 

Loudon, 1811, 1 vol. 4to. 
Ascham, Eoger, The Schole Master, &c., London, 1570, 1 vol. small 4to. 
Ausonius, D. Magni Ausonii Burdegalensis Opera, Anistelffidami, 1750, 1 vol. 18mo. 

Bacon (Lord) Essayes or Counsels, civil and moraU, newly enlarged, London, 1625, 
1 vol. small 4ta. 

Ballads, English and Scotch Ballads, edited by Francis James Child, Boston and 
liondon, 1861, 8 vols. 12mo. 



VIU BIBLIOGEAPHICAL LIST OF 

Ballot y Torres, Gramatica y Apologia de la Llengua Catlialana, Barcelona, 1 voL 

12mo. s.A. 
Beowulf, Text in GrdrCs Eibllothek, B. I. 
Berners (Lord). See Froissart. 
Bible, Englisli, The Holy Bible, conteyning the Old Testament and the Now, 

London, 1611, 1 vol. folio. 

— Platt-Deutsch. See Bugenhagen, 

— Hoch-Deutsch, or Luther's. See Luther, 

— Polyglott. See Stler xind Thiele. 

Bimdelli, B., Poesie Lombarde Liedite del Secolo XIIL, Milano, 1856, 1 toI. 8vo. 

— Saggio sui Dialetti Gallo-Italici, Milano, 1853, 1 vol. 8vo. 

Body and Soul, Dialogue between, in Appendix to the Latin Poems attributed to 
Walter Mapes, edited by AVright for the Camden Society, London, 184], 1 vol. 4to. 

Boethius. See Alfred. 

Bonncmere, Histoire des Paysans depuis la fin du JVIoyen Age jusqu'a nos jours, 
par Eugene Bonnemere, Paris, 1856, 2 T. 8vo. 

Bosworth, A Dictionary of the Anglo-Saxon Laaaguage, by Rev. J. Bosworth, 
London, 1835, 1 vol. 8vo. 

— The Origin of the Germanic and Scandinavian Languages and Nations, London, 

1846, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Bugenhagcn, Platt-Deutsch translation of the Bible, Dat ys, De gantze Hillige 

Schrift vordiidtschet dorch D. Marti. Luth. Magdeborch, 1545, 1 B. folio. 
Bur guy, Grammaire de la Langue d'Oil, Berlin, 1853, 3 B. Bvo. 

Ccedmon, Genesis, Exodus, Daniel, Text in Grein^s Bibliothelc, B. I. 
Caxton, The Game of the Chesse, reproduced in fac-simile by V. FIggins, London, 
1860, 1 vol. folio. 

— Preface to the Morte d' Arthur, ([.v, 

(Jhmtcer, The Canterbury Tales of Geoffrey Chaucer, a new text, edited by T. 

Wright for the Percy Society, London, 1847-1851, 3 vols. 12mo. 
-^ Beprint of same text, s. A. 1 vol. 8vo. 
pr- The Poetical Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, with Tyrwhitt's Introductory Dis- 

CQurse, Notes and Glossary, London, 1859, 1 vol. 8vo.' 
Chejce, Sir John, The Hurt of Sedition, in Holinshcd, Vol. 3. q.v. 
^ Gospel of Matthew and part of St. Mark's, London, 1843, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Churchyard, Thomas, Chips concerning Scotland, reprint, London, 1817, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Coleridge, A Glossarial Index to the Printed English Literature of the Thirteenth 

Century, by Herbert Coleridge, London, 1859, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Consicmcio, Novo Diccionario critico c etymologico da Lingua Portugueza, por 

P. S. QQnstancio, Septima Edicao, Paris, 1859, 1 T. 4to. 



WORKS CITED IN THESE LECTUEES IX 

Contzen, Die Wanderungen der Kelten, historisch-kritiscli dargelegt, von Leopold 

Contzen, Leipsig, 1861, 1 T. 8vo. 
Courier, P. L., Oeuvres completes de Paul-Louis Courier, Bruxelles, 1833, 1 T. 8vo. 
Craiik, G. L., History of the English Literature and Language, London, 1862, 

2 vols. 8vo. 

— Outlines of the History of the English Language, 1 toI. 12nio. 

Curtasye, Boke of. The Boke of Curtasye, an English Poem of the Fourteenth 
Century, edited hy HaUiwell for the Percy Society, London, 1841, 1 vol. 12mo. 

Cury, Forme of, The Forme of Cury, a Eoll of Ancient Cookery, London, 1780, 
1 vol. 8vo. 

Cyn&mxdfs Crist, Text in QrdrCs Bibliothek, B. L 

Dante, H Convito di Dante Alighieri e le Epistole, con illustrazioni. e note di 

Pietro Fraticelli, Firenze, 1857, 1 vol. 12mo. 
Denkmaler Altniederlandischer Sprache und Litteratur, herausgegeben von Kausler, 

Tiibingen, 1841, 1844, 2 B. 8vo. 
Diez, Grammatik der Romanischen Sprachen, von Friedrich Diez, 2*« Ausgabe, 

Bonn, 1856, 1860, 3 B. 8vo. 
Duhartas. See Sylvester. 
Dmangc, G-lossarium Mediae et Infimse Latinitatis, cum Sup. int. Carpenterii et 

aliorum, digessit Henschel, Parisiis, 1840, 1850, 7 T. 4to. 

Edda, elder or poetical, Edda Ssemundar bins Fro 5 a, Edda Ehythmica seu 
antiquior, Havnise, 1787-1827, 3 T. 4to. 

— younger or prose, Edda Snorra Sturlusonar, Havnise, 1848, 1852, T. 1 et 2, 8vo. 
Edward III., Poem on death of, in Political Poems and Songs of England, Yol. 1. 

Egilsson, Lexicon Poeticum Antiquse Linguae Septentrionalis' (Icelandic and Latin), 

conscripsit Sveinbjorn Egilsson, Hafnise, 1860, 1 T. 8vo. 
Fardle of Facions, London, 1555, 1 vol. 18mo., reprinted in Supplement to 

Hakluyt, 1812. 
Fauriel, Dante et la Litterature Italienne, Paris, 1854, 2 T. 8vo. 
Ferguut, Volksroman uit de XIV^« Eeuw, uitgegeven door Visscher, Utrecht, 1830, 

1 B. 8vo. 

Ferreras, monosyllabic poem, in Ballot y Torres, Gramatica de la Llengua Cathalana. 
Fiedler und Sachs, Wissenchaftliche Grammatik der Englischen Sprache, von 

E. Fiedler und Carl Sachs, Leipsig, 1861, 2 B. 8vo. 
Firmenich, Germaniens Volkerstimmen, Berlin, various years to 1862, 3 B. 8vo. 
Fisher, Sermon on the death of the Countess of Derby, reprint, London, 1708, 

1 vol. 12mo. 
Fonseca e Carolino, Novo Grula da Conversagao em Portuguez e Inglez, Paris, 

1855, 1 T. 12mo. 



X BIBLIoaRAPHICAL LIST OF 

Forbi/, The Vocabulary of East Anglia, by Eobert Forby, London, 1830, 2 rols. 8v6. 

Froissart, Sir John, Chronicles of England, France, Spain, Scotland, &c., trans- 
lated by John Bourchier, Lord Berners, London, 1523, 1525, 2 vols, folio ; reprint, 
London, 1812, 2 vols. 4to. 

Fuller, The Church History of Britain, from the Birth of Jesus Christ until the 
year 1648, London, 1665, 1 vol. folio. 

Gil, Alexander, Logonomia Anglica, 2nd edition, London, 1621, small 4to. 
Golding, The XV Books of P. Ouidius Naso, entituled Metamorphosis, a work 

verie pleasant and delectable, translated out of Latin into English meeter by 

Arthvr Golding, Gentleman, London, 1595, 1 vol. small 4to. 
Gospel, The Gospel according to Matthew in Anglo-Saxon and Northumbrian 

Versions, Cambridge, 1858, 1 vol. 4to. 
Gower, The Confessio Amantis of John Gower, edited by Dr. Keinhold Pauli, 

London, 1857, 3 vols. 8vo. 
Graff, E. G., Diutiska, Denkmaler Deutscher Sprache und Litteratur, Stuttgart und 

Tiibingen, 1826, 1829, 3 B. 8vo. 

Grein, Bibliothek der Angelsachsischen Poesie, Gottingen, 1857-1862, 8vo., text* 

2 B. ; Deutsche Uebersetzung, B. I. II. ; Glossar. H. 1, 2. 
Grimm, Jacob und Wilhelm, Deutsches Worterbuch, Leipzig, 1852-62, B. I. II. 

ni. 4to. 

— Jacob, Geschichte der Deutschen Sprache, 2*« Auflage, Leipzig, 1852, 2 B. 
8vo. 

HaJcluyt, Richard, The principal Navigations, Voyages, and Discoveries made by 
the English Nation, London, 1598, 1599, 1600, 3 vols, folio. 

— Supplement to Hakluyt, &c., London, 1812, 1 vol. 4to. 

Hardynge, John, Chronicle in Metre, with continuation in Prose, edited by Grafton, 

reprint, London, 1812, 1 vol. 4to. 
Hau]^t, Zeitschrift fiir Deutsches Alterthum, Leipzig, 1841-62, 12 B. 8vo. 
Hawes, Stephen,' Thet Pastime of Pleasure, reprint, edited by Wright for Percy 

Society, London, 1845, 1 vol. 12mo. 
HeimsJcringla, Historia Eegum Norvegicorum, auctore Snorrio Sturlseo, Hafnise, 

1777-1826, 6 T. folio. 
Heliand, Poema Saxonicum Seculi Noni, edidit G. A. SchmeUer, Monaci, 1830, 

1 T. 4to. 
Hereford, Translation of part of Old Testament, in Wycliffite Versions, q.v. 
Heywood, John, The Pour Ps, a very merry Enterlude of a Palmer, a Pardoner, a 

Potecary, and a Pedlar, reprint in Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays : also many 

single plays ; no collected edition exists. 
Hoffmann von Fallersleben, Horse Belgicse (various years down to 1857), 2** 

Ausgabe, 11 B. 8ro. 



WORKS CITED IN THESE LECTURES XI 

Holinshed, Balph, Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland, reprint, London, 

1807-1808, 6 vols. 4to. 
Holland. See Fliny. 
HooJcer, Richard, Of the Lawes of Ecclesiasticall Politie, by Kichard Hooker, 

Bookesl. to IV., London, without date (1594), 1 vol. folio; The Fift Booke, 

London, 1597, 1 vol. folio. 
Horn (Kyng) The Geste of Kyng Horn, in Horn et Eimenhild, edited for the 

Bannatyne Club by Francisque Michel, Paris, 1845, 1 T. 4to. 
Hicydeco;per, Breeder Aantekeningen op Melis Stoke, in his edition of that author, 

Leyden, 1772, 3 B. 8vo. 

James (King) /., Poetical Kemains of James the First, Perth, 1787, 1 vol. 12nio. 
Jonson, Ben, "Works, London, 1616-1631, 2 vols, folio. 

Kausler. See Denkmaler Altniederl. Sp. und Lit. 

Klipstein, Louis F., A Grramniar of the Anglo-Saxon Language, New York, 1849, 

1 vol. 12nio. 
Knox, John, First Blast of the Trumpet against the monstrous Regiment of 

"Women, in Appendix to Knox's Historic of the Eeformation of Religioun 

within the Eealme of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1732, 1 vol. folio. 
Knytlinga Saga inFornmanna Sogur, B. XL, Kaupmannahofn, 1828, 8vo. 
Koenen, De Nederlandsche Boerenstand Historisch Beschreven, Haarlem, 1858, 

1 B. 8vo. 

Langlande. See Piers Ploughman. 

Langtoft. See Bohert of Brunne. 

Latimer, The Fyrste Sermon of Mayster Hughe Latemer, whych he preached 

before the kynges maiestie, &c., y" viii. day of Marche, mcccccxlix. (with six 

other sermons), London, John Daye, n. d. 
Layamon, La5amon's Brut, or Chronicle of Britain, edited by Sir Frederic 

Madden, for the Society of Antiquaries, London, 1847, 3 vols. 8vo. 
Libel of English Policy, in Political Poems and Songs, relating to English 

History, «Sz;c. Vol. 2. 

lAllie or Lolly, Euphues, the Anatomie of "Wit, Euphues and His England, by 

John Lylie, London, 1636, 1 vol. small 4to. 
Lindisfarne Gospels. See Gospel. 
Lorris, Gicillaume de. See Roman de la Rose. 
Luther's German (Hoch-Deutsch) Bible. See Stier und Thiele, 
Lydgate, J., "Various extracts in "Warton and other critical writers. 

Malorye, Sir Thomas. See Morte d' Arthur. 

Mandeville, The Voiage and Travaile of Sir John Maundeville, Kt. London, 



XU BIBLIOaRAPHICAL LIST OF 

1725 ; reprint, witli Introduction, Notes, and Glossary by Halliwell, London, 

1839. 1 vol. 8to. 
Manning, Bobert. See Eobert of Brunne. 
Martyr, Befer, Decades, in Supplement to HaJcluyt. 
Meung, J. de. See Eoman de la Kose. 
Minot, Poems of Laiirence Minot in Political Poems and Songs of England, 

Vol. 1. 
Miracle Plays, Sermon against, in Eeliquise Antiquas, Vol. 2. 
Mirror for Magistrates, reprint, London, 1815, 3 vols. 4to. 
Mceso- Gothic Scriptures. See TJlfila. 

Molbech, C, Dansk Ordbog, anden Udgave, Kjobenhavn, 1859, 2 B. 8vo. 
More, Sir Thomas, The Apologye of syr Thomas More, knyght, London, n. d. 

(1533) 1 vol. 18mo. 

— The Workes of Sir Thomas More, Knyght, &c., wrytten by him in the Englysh 

tonge, London, 1557, 1 vol. folio. 
Morte d' Arthur, The Byrth, Lyf, and Actes of Kyng Arthur, &c., and in the end 

Le Morte Darthur, London, 1485; reprint, edited by Southey, London, 1817, 

2 vols. 4to. 
3Iulcaster, Eichard, First Part of the Elementarie, London, 1581, 1 vol. sm. 4to. 

Njala, Sagan af Niali Jjorgeirssyni ok Sonum bans, Kavpmannahavfn, 1772, 
1 vol. 4to. 

— Nials Saga, Historia Niali et Eiliorum, Latine reddita, cum Glossario, Havniae, 

1809, 1 vol. 4to. 
Nibelungen, Der Nibelunge Lied, Abdruck der Handschrift des Freiherrn von 
Lassberg, Leipzig, 1840, 1 vol. 4to. 

Occlcve or Hoccleve, Poems never before printed, &c., London, 1796, 1 voL 4to.; 

also excerpts in Warton and other critical writers. 
Olither's narrative in Alfred's Orosius, g'.v. 
Orm or Ormin, The Ormulum, from the original manuscript, edited by E. M. 

White, Oxford, 1852, 2 vols. 8vo. 
Otfrid, Krist, herausgegeben von GraflP, Konigsberg, 1831, 1 T. 4to. 
Owl and Nightingale, The Owl and the Nightingale, ain early English Poem, 

edited by T. Wright for the Percy Society, London, 1843, 1 vol. 12mo. 

Faidiy Br. B., The Life of Alfred the Great, to which is appended Alfred's Anglo- 
Saxon version of Orcsius, London, 1857, 1 vol. 12mo. 

Talsgrave, L'Eclaircissement de la Langue Erangaise, par Jean Palsgrave ; reprint, 
edited byE. Genin, Paris, 1852, 1 vol. folio. 

BccocJc, The Eepressor of over much blaming of the Clergy, by Eeginald Pecock, 
London, 1860, 2 vols. 8vo. 



WORKS CITED IN THESE LECTURES XlU 

Vedersen, Christen, Det Ny Testamente, 1531, reprinted in Pedersen's Danske 

Skrifter, Ejobenhayn, 1853, B. III. 
Phaer, Translation of Virgil's Aeneid, completed by T-n^ne, London, 1584. 
Piers Ploughman, The Vision and the Creed of Piers Ploughman, edited by 

Wright, London, 1842, 2 vols. 12mo. 
Platt-Deutsch Bible. See BugenJiagen. 
Tliny, the elder, Natural History, translated by Philemon Holland, London, 1601, 

2 vols, folio. 
Political Songs, The Political Songs of England from the Keign of John to that 

of Ed-ward II., edited by Wright for the Camden Society, London, 1839, 

1 vol. 4to. 

— Political Poems and Songs relating to English History, from the accession of 

Edward III. to that of Richard III., edited by Wright in Eev. Brit. Med. 

Aevi Script. Vol. 1, 1859, Vol. 2, 1861. 

Porter Com. David, Constantinople and its Environs, Ne-w York, 1835, 2 vols. 8vo. 

Promptorium Parvulorum, sive Clericorum, edited by Way for Camden Society, 

London, T. 1, 1843, T. 2, 1853, 4to. 
Purchas, Pilgrimes and Pilgrimages, or Voiages and Land Travels to all parts of 

the World, London, 1625-6, 5 vols, folio. 
Purvey, Eecension of the Wycliffite Bible. See Wycliffe. 
Puttenham, The Arte of English Poesie, London, 1589 ; reprint, edited by Hasle- 

wood, London, 1811, 1 vol. 4to. 

Basic, Erasmus, A Grammar of the Anglo-Saxon Tongue, translated by Thorpe, 

Copenhagen, 1830, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Baynoiuird, Lexique Eoman, ou Dictionnaire de la Langue des Troubadours, Paris, 

1844, 6 T. 8vo. 
Eeliquige Antiquae, Scraps from ancient Manuscripts, by T. Wright and J. 0. 

Halliwell, London, 1841, 2 vols. 8vo. 
Eerum Britannicarum Medii Aevi Scriptores, or Chronicles and Memorials of 

Great Britain and Ireland during the Middle Ages, now publishing in 8vo. 

volumes, by the British Government, under the direction of the Master of the 

Eolls. See Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Cajpgrave, PecocJc, Political Poems and 

Songs, Eoyal and Historical Letters. 
Eichard, Cceur de Lion, Poem on, in Weber's Metrical Eomances, Vol. 2, g^.v. 
Eohert of Brunne, or Bohert Manning, Peter Langtoft's Chronicle (as illus- 
trated and improVd by Bohert of Brunne), edited by Thomas Hearne, Oxford, 

1725, 2 vols. 8vo. 
Bobert of Gloucester, Chronicle Transerib'd and now first publish'd from a MS. 

in the Harleyan Library, by Thomas Hearne, Oxford, 1724, 2 vols. 8vo; 

reprint, London, 1810, 2 vols. Svo. 

— Lives and Legends of the Saints : St. Brandan, Percy Society, London 



XIV BIBLIOGBAPHICAL LIST OF 

1844, 1 vol. 12mo ; Life and Martyrdom of Thomas a Becket, do. London, 

1845, 1 vol. 12mo; Fragment on Popular Science, in WrigMs Popular 
Treatises on Science, q.v. 

Eoman de la Eose, le, par Guillaume de Lorris et Jelian de Meimg, edited by 

Meon, Paris, 1844, 4 T. 8vo. 
Boquefort, Cr. B. B., Glossaire de la Langue Eomane, Paris, 1808, 2 T. Svo.; 

Supplement, ibid. 1820, 1 T. 8vo. 
Eoyal and Historical Letters during the Eeign of Henry IV., London, 1860, 

Vol. 1, 8vo. in Eer. Brit. Med. Aev. Script. 
Eushworth Gospels. See Gospels. 

Sackville, T., Induction, &c., in Mii-rour for Magistrates. 

— Poetical Works, London, 1820, Svo. 1 vol. 

— Gorboduc, or Ferrex and Porrex in Dodsley's Old Plays. 
Sandras, E. G., Etude sur Chaucer, Paris, 1859, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Schmid, Gesetze der Angel-Sachsen, 2'« Ausgabe, 1858, 1 B. 8vo. 
Shalcespcare, Works of. Knight's Pictorial Edition, London, 1839, 8 vols. Svo. 
Sidney, Sir Fhili^, Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia, Defence of Poesy, and other 

works, London, 1665, 1 vol. folio. 
SJcelton, J., Poetical Works, edited by Dyce, London, 1843, 2 vols. Svo. 
Snorri Sticrluson. See Edda the younger, and Heimskringla. 
Specimens of Lyric Poetry composed in England in the Eeign of Edward I., 

edited by Wright for the Percy Society, London, 1842, 1 vol. 12mo. 
Spenser, Edmund, Poetical Works, edited byHillard, Boston, 1842, 5 vols. Svo. 
Stalder, P. J., Die Landessprachen der Schweiz, oder Schweizerische Dialektologie, 

Aarau, 1819, 1 vol. Svo. 
Stanihurst, Bichard, Description, &c., of Ireland in Holinshed, Vol. 6. 

— Translations, &c., extracts in Warton. 

Stier und Thiele, Polyglotten-Bibel zum Handgebrauch, Bielefeld, 1854, 4 B. 

in 5, Svo. 
Surrey and Wyatt, Songs and Sonnets, reprint, London, 1717, 1 vol. Svo. 
Surtees Psalter, Anglo-Saxon and Early English Psalter, published by the Surtees 

Society, London, 1843, 1847, 2 vols. Svo. 
Sylvester, Du Bartas, his Divine Weekes and Workes, translated by Sylvester, 
London, 1611, 1 vol. 4to. 

Tegner, Esaias, Samlade Skrifter, Stockholm, 1847-1851, 7 B. Svo. 

Turner, Sharon, The History of the Anglo-Saxons, Philadelphia, 1841, 2 

vols. Svo. 
Tyndale, William, The Newe Testament, 1526 ; reprint, after Bagster, by G. P. 

Dabney, Andover, 1837, 1 vol. Svo. 



WOEKS CITED IN THESE LECTURES XV 

Tyndale, William, The Supper of the Lorde, London, Mcccccxxxrrr. v. daye of 

Aprjll, 1 vol. ISmo. 
Tyrwhitt, See Chaucer. 

TJlfila, Oder die ims erhaltenen Denkmaler der Gothischen Sprache, Text. 
Grammatik und Worterbuch, bearheitet und herausgegeben von F, L, Stamm, 
Paderborn, 1858, 1 B. 8vo. I have used also the very valuable edition of the 
Fragments of the Moeso-Gothic Scriptures by Gabelentz and Loebe, 1843, 

2 B. 4to. 

Van Maerlant, Jacob, Spiegel Historiael, uitgegeven door de Maatscliappij der 
Nederlandsche Letterkunde, te Leiden, 1859—1862, 3 B. 4to. 

Vertomannus, Travels in the East, in Supplement to RaMuyt. 

Villemarque, Les Eomans de la Table Eonde, et les Contes des anciens Bretons, 
Paris, 1861, 1 voL 8vo. 

Warton, Thomas, The History of English Poetry from the Close of the Eleventh 
to the Commencement of the Eighteenth Century, edited by Price, London, 1840, 

3 vols. 8vo. 

Weber, Metrical Eomances of the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Cen- 
turies, Edinburgh, 1810, 3 vols. 12mo. 
Wedgwood, Hensleigh, A Dictionary of English Etymology, with Notes by George 

P. Marsh, Vol. 1, New York, 1861, 8vo. 
Wilson, or Wylson, The Three Orations of Demosthenes in Favour of the 

Olynthians, and the Four Philippics, London, 1570, 1 voL 4to. 
Wright, T., Popular Treatises on Science, written during the Middle Ages, 
London, 1841, 1 vol. 8vo. See also Piers Ploughman, Anecdota Literaria, 
Eeliquise Antiquse, &c. &c. 
Wycliffe, Apology for the LoUards, Camden Society, London, 1842, 1 vol. 4to. 
— The Holy Bible in the earliest English Versions, made from the Latin 
Vulgate by John Wycliffe and his Followers {Hereford and Purvey), edited 
by Eev. J. Forshall and Sir F. Madden, Oxford, University Press, 1850, 
4 vols. 4to. 



LECTURES 



ENGLISH LANGUAGE 



LECTUEE I. 

INTEODUCTOEY. 

The subject of the course upon which I am about to enter will 
be, as nearly as I am able to express it in a comprehensive title, 
the Origin and History of the English Language, and of the 
Early Literature it embodies. I shall not notice the works of 
those natives of England who have written, on domestic as 
well as on more general topics, in foreign tongues, Latin and 
French, because those works, though composing a part of the 
national literature, do not belong to the literature of the En- 
glish language, which alone is embraced in the plan of the pre- 
sent readings. I confine myself to the history of early English 
literature for two reasons. The first is the impossibility of survey- 
ing, in so short a series of discourses, the whole field of English 
intellectual action ; the second, that the harmonious execution 
of my purpose — which is to discuss the two branches of the 
subject, language and literature, with constant reference to 
their reciprocal influence on each other — excludes those periods 
when their history had ceased to be concurrent. 

The English language had already gone through its principal 
phases when the earliest of the works, which are now coUec- 



2 ENGLISH LITEKATURU AND LANGUAGE Lect. I. 

lively known to most grammarians, lexicographers, and common 
readers as the body of English literature, made its appearance. 
A single epoch witnessed the completion of that organic action 
by which the English speech was developed from its elements, 
and the beginning of that one era of English authorship, the 
products of which still subsist as a consciously-felt and recog- 
nised agency in the world of letters. The language had passed 
the stages of infancy and youth, attained to the ripe perfection 
of manhood, and thus completed its physiological history, before 
the existing period of its literature began. In treating the two, 
then, the speech and its literature, conjointly, I am necessarily 
limited to the centuries when both were undergoing the suc- 
cessive processes of evolution and growth, and when the pro- 
gress of each was dependent on that of the other, and conditioned 
by it. 

This period extends from a little before the commencement 
of the reign of Henry III. to the tatter years of Queen Eliza- 
beth, and thus embraces not far from four hundred years. 
During this space, the intellect of England, stirred at once by 
inborn impulses, and by external influences, had become luxu- 
riantly productive, and was constantly struggling to find articu- 
late symbols and syntactical combinations, wherein to embody 
and communicate the vivid images, deep thoughts, and earnest 
aspirations which it had either spontaneously originated, or 
appropriated from the literatures of ancient or foreign nations, 
while the language, stimulated to a continually renewed evolu- 
tion of organic action by the necessities of a regenerated literary, 
political, social, and commercial life, was gradually expanding 
into a largeness of capacity, and moulding itself into a fitness of 
form, to serve as a vehicle for the vast, and varied, and strange 
conceptions it was now called upon to express. 

This process, or rather this double series of processes, was 
completed, as I have said, about the end of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, and our view of the language and its monuments will 
embrace little which belongs to later dates, except so far as I 



Lect. I. ENGLISH LITEEATURE AND LANGUAGE 3 

may incidentally refer to subsequent verbal forms or intellectual 
products, as results of tendencies already manifested in tbe 
English mind and its speech, in the era which we are more 
particularly considering. 

The tongue of England and her intellectual culture had now 
respectively attained to a stage of advancement where neither 
imperiously demanded new capabilities in the other. The lan- 
guage no longer showed the want of that affluence, and polish, 
and clearness, and force, which human speech can acquire only 
by long use as the medium of written composition in the various 
forms of narrative, imaginative and discursive literature, and, 
in modern times at least, by the further aid of exposure to the 
stimulating and modifying influences of the history, and poetry, 
and philosophy, and grammar, and vocabulary of foreign 
tongues. The English mind and heart, meanwhile, had been 
gathering knowledge, and experience, and strength, and catho- 
licity of sympathy, and they were now able to expand to 
the full dimensions of their growth, gird themselves to their 
mightiest moral and intellectual efforts, and burst into song, or 
sermon, or story, or parliamentary or forensic harangue, without 
fear that the mother-tongue of England would want words to 
give adequate and melodious expression to their truest feelings, 
their most solemn convictions, and their loftiest aspirations.* 

The history of this philological and intellectual progress is 
the too vast theme of the present course; and if I shall succeed 
in conveying a general notion of the gradual living processes 
by which the English tongue and its literature grew up, from 
the impotent utterance and feeble conceptions of the thirteenth 
century, to the divine power of expression displayed in Tyndale's 
version of the New Testament, in the sixteenth, and the revela- 
tion of man's moral nature in the dramas of Shakespeare, at the 
commencement of the seventeenth, I shall have accomplished 
the task I have undertaken. 

* See Illustration I. at the end of this lecture. 
B 2 



4 OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE Lect. I. 

The linguistic facts and literary illustrations required for the 
cc^mprehension of such a sketch will be drawn chiefly from 
sources familiar indeed to many of the audience, but vfhich 
do not come within the habitual observation and knowledsfe of 
what is called the reading public ; but I shall endeavour not to 
advance theories, employ technical terms, or introduce citations, 
which will not easily be understood by any person possessed of 
sufficient literary culture to feel an intelligent interest in the 
subject. 

In all inquiries into the history of past ages, whether as 
respects the material concerns or the intellectual action of men, 
the question constantly presents itself; what was the inherent 
worth, or what is the surviving practical importance, of the 
objects, or the acts, the monuments of which we are investi- 
gating? — and hence we must ask: what was the actual signifi- 
cance of that bygone literature, into which, both for its own 
sake as an interesting chapter in the annals of the human mind, 
and for the sake of the language, of whose changes it constitutes 
the only record, we propose to look ? The few examples which 
can be cited will not, of themselves, suffice to convey an ade- 
quate conception of the special character, still less of the wealth, 
of old English literature ; but I shall endeavour to illustrate 
them by such biographical or historical notices as may serve to 
show their connection with the social and intellectual life of the 
periods and the people to which they belong, and thus help my 
hearers to arrive at conclusions for themselves which I may not 
think it necessary in all cases formally to express. I shall strive 
thus to invest my subject with a higher philosophical interest 
than belongs to mere historical grammar, and the considerations 
which suggest themselves in our survey will, I hope, give some 
additional incitement to the impulse now beginning to be felt 
by so many scholars towards the study of the neglected and 
forgotten authors of ages which want, indeed, the polish acd 
refinement of subsequent centuries, but are, nevertheless, ani- 
mated and informed with a spontaneous life, a freshness, and 



Lect. L INDEPENDENCY OF ENGLAND 5 

vigour, rare in the productions of eras more advanced in artificial 
culture. 

A literature which extends through four centuries, and which 
was successively exposed to the stimulating influences of such 
radical revolutions in Church and in State, of such important 
advances in every branch of knowledge, such achievements 
in fine and industrial art, and such triumphs of human power 
over physical nature, cannot be described by any one series of 
epithets, nor, indeed, were its traits always so marked that all its 
products are recognizable as unmistakably of English growth. 
But it may be said, in general, that, more than most other 
equally imaginative literatures, it was practically and visibly 
connected with the actual social being of man, with his enjoy- 
ments and sufferings in this world, and his hopes and fears in 
reference to another. It was a reflection of the waking life of 
an earnest, active nation, not, like so much of the contempo- 
raneous expression of Continental genius, a magic mirror showing 
forth the unsubstantial dreams of an idle, luxurious, and fantastic 
people. 

The eminently practical character of old English literature is 
due, in a considerable degree, to the political condition of the 
English government. The insular position of England made 
that kingdom, from the beginning, more than any other Euro- 
pean state, independent of the international combinations which, 
in a great degree, controlled the destiny and moulded the 
institutions and characters of the Continental peoples, and this 
isolation of the government was felt and shared by the nation. 
It entered into the English heart, and has, in all the best 
periods of English literature, constituted a marked and peculiar 
charaicteristic of its genius. While the writers of most other 
European countries have had their periods and their schools, 
when now classic, now romantic, now Grallic, and now Grothic 
influences predominated, and stamped with a special character, 
not merely the works of individual authors, but the entire lite- 
rary effort of the time, the literature of England has never 



6 ENGLAND INDEPENDENT OP ROME Lect. t 

submitted itself to any such trammels, but has always maintained 
a self-guided, if not a wholly self-inspired, existence ; and this 
is perhaps the best reason that can be given why Continental 
critics, trained, as until recently they have been, in the tradi- 
tions and observances of their schools, have so generally proved 
unable to comprehend the drift and true significance of English 
letters. 

The political and literary independence of England grew with 
the diminution of its continental territory. So long as the 
British throne held any important portion of its dominions by a 
feudal tenure which obliged it to acknowledge the suzerainty of 
the crown of France, it was a party to the Continental political 
compact, and, as such, involved in all the feuds, and warfares, 
and conflicts of social and industrial interests which distracted 
that organization. And, what was even a greater evil, it was 
subject to the overshadowing domination of Eome, which claimed 
and received the homage theoretically due to the eternal city as 
the earthly metropolis of the universal Church, but practically 
accorded to her as the natural representative of the temporal 
supremacy exercised by the ancient mistress and capital of the 
world. But though England shared with the Continent in the 
baneful influence of this spiritual and semi-political despotism, 
yet it was only at comparatively rare intervals that it was felt 
and submitted to, in its full extent, by the English government 
and people. There was always something of a disposition to 
inquire iato the foundation of the authority claimed by the 
Eoman pontiff, to doubt the infallibility of his decisions, and 
to tread on forbidden ground, by debating questions which, 
according to the doctrine of papal supremacy, had been for 
ever settled by a tribunal incapable of error and armed with 
the thunderbolts of Heaven for the enforcement of its decrees. 

The Eomish see itself, well knowing that the geographical 
position of England secured it from physical coercion, was slow 
to proceed to extremilies against a crown and a people who 
might, at any time, despise its mandates with impunity. Hence 



Lect. L ENGLAND INDEPENDENT OF ROME 7 

the relations between the papacy and England were generally 
like those between a sovereign who shuts his eyes to insurrec^ 
tionary movements in a rebellious province too strong or too 
distant to be reduced by force of arms, and a people that 
submits under protest, and is biding its time to throw off a 
foreign and obnoxious yoke. The English nation and its writers, 
then, were not habitually sunk in that humiliating submission 
to the papacy which long paralyzed the intellectual energy of 
other Christian races, and restrained them from the discussion 
of high and noble themes, nor was the occupant of the Eoman 
see regarded with that abject reverence which so often in Con- 
tinental history bestowed upon him the name and attributes of 
the Most High. While Charles V. of France, in the great 
schism of the fourteenth century, a little before the close of his 
reign, was making, as Froissart says, ^ a specyall commandement 
throughoute his realme, that every manne shulde take and 
repute Clement for pope, and that every manne shulde obey 
him as Grod on erthe,'* Wycliffe, cheered and sustained by 
many of the nobility as well as commonalty of England f, was 

* Froissart, Lord Berners's Translation, I. c. 345. See Illustration II. at the 
end of this lecture. 

t 'Hodid men were cleped thanne the Lolardis, that wold never avale here hood 
in presens of the Sacrament, of whech at that tyme these were the princip^iles : 
— "William Nevyle, [Sir] Lodewic Clifforth, Jon Clambowh, Eichard Sturry, 
Thomas Latymer, and werst of alle, Jon Mountagu [Earl of Salisbury] ^ * And 
of J. Mountagu thei sei he was a gret distroyer of ymages.' — Capgrave^s Chronick, 
p. 245, an. 1387. 

These noblemen and gentlemen seem to have been rather obstinate heretics, 
for seven years later, as we learn from Capgrave, p. 260, an. 1394, 'The Lolardis 
set up scrowis at Westminster and at Poiiles, with abhominable accusaciones of 
hem that long to the Cherch, whech sounded in destruccioune of the Sacramentis, 
and of statutes of the Cherch. The meynteyneris of the puple that were so infect 
were these : — Eichard Storry, Lodewik Clifforth, Thomas Latymer, Jon Moun- 
tagw. Thei were principal iustructouris of heretikes. The kyng, whan he had 
conceyved the malice of these men, he cleped hem to his presens and snybbed 
hem ; forbad hem eke thei schuld no more meynten no swech opiniones.' 

The Earl of Salisbury, at least, died in the faith he had espoused, for, when in 
1400, at ' Cicetir,' an insurrection was put down and * the town drow hem [the 
rebels] oute of the Abbey, and smet of many of her hedis,' it appears that 'the 
erl of Salesbury was ded there ; and worthi, for he was a gret fayorere of tho 



8 ENGLAND INDEPENDENT OF KOME Lect. I. 

impressing upon Urbanj then recognised by the English nation 
as the lawful incumbent of the papal throne, the lesson that 
Victor Emanuel and Garibaldi are, with stronger means of 
'moral suasion,' inculcating upon a stiff-necked successor of 
Urban to-day. ' I take as bileve/ wrote Wycliffe to the pope, 
* that none schulde sue the Pope, ne no saint that now is in 
hevene, bot in alsmyche as he sued Christ : for James and John 
errid, and Peter and Powl sinned. And this I take as holesome 
counseile, that the Pope leeve his worldly lordschip to worldly 
lords, as Christ gaf him, and move speedily all his clerks to do 
so ; for thus did Christ, and taught thus his disciples, till the 
fende had blynded this world. * * * And I suppose of our 
Pope that he will not be Antichrist and reverse Christ in this 
wirking to the contrary of Christ's wille. For if he summons 
agens resoun by him or any of his, and pursue this unskilful 
summoning, he is an open Antichrist.' * 

Lollardis, a despiser of sacramentis, for lie wold not be confessed when lie scliuld 
deie.' — Capgrave, p. 276. 

* The orthography of this passage is evidently somewhat modernised, and there 
are apparently some trifling verbal errors in the text, but I print it as I find it in 
Vaughan's Life of Wycliffe, ii. 456. The deliberate judgment of Thomas a Becket, 
stoutly as the interests of his order led him to uphold the monstrous abuse which 
exempted the clergy from the jimsdiction of lay criminal tribunals, was far from 
favourable to the papal court. In writing to Cardinal Albert, he said : ' I know 
not how it always happens that, at the court of Eome, Barabbas is delivered and 
Christ condemned and crucifi.ed.' I cite from Bonnemere, Histoire des Paysans, 
i. 163, which I am happy to have an opportunity to recommend as a work of 
great research and merit. 

Capgrave, anno 1385, says: 'In the IX sere of this king, John Wiclef, the 
orgon of the devel, the enemy of the Cherch, the confusion of men, the ydol 
of heresie, the meroure of ypocrisie, the norischer of scisme, be the rithful dome 
of God, was smet with a horibil paralsie thorw oute his body,' &c. &c. But not- 
withstanding this bitterness against Wycliffe, he expresses no disapprobation of 
the application of Lynch law to those who, in 1358, 'broute the bulles ' for the 
excommunication of certain living transgressors against the Church, and the ex- 
humation of the bodies of their deceased accomplices. He cites, with apparent 
assent, a.d. 1390, the common opinion that Urban was *a very tiraunt,' and had 
deposed the English cardinal Adam 'for non other caaise ' than that 'he lettid 
him mech of his wrong desire ;' and he evidently believes that Pope Innocent IV., 
who had interfered with the right of royal and seignorial ecclesiastical patronage 
in England, died by the visitation of God in 1251, after having been summoned to 
judgment by Robert Grostede, late Bishop of Lincoln, who appeared to him in a 



LecT. L ENaLAND INDEPENDENT OF KOME 9 

The occasional contests between the Continental sovereigns 
and the popes chiefly concerned the temporalities of the 
Church, or grew out of questions affecting them, and there was, 
usually, less disposition to meddle with doctrinal points or mat- 
ters of ecclesiastical discipline than in England.* There a 
bolder spirit of inquiry prevailed, and though the sovereigns 
professed due spiritual obedience to the papacy, we may apply 
to many of them what Fuller says of Henry VII. : * To the 
Pope he was submissive, not servile, his devotion being seldom 
without design, so using his Holiness, that he seldom stooped 
down to him in any low reverence, but, with the same gesture, 
he took up something in order to his own ends.' f 

The independence of the English people gave their literature 
a fi'eer character, brought it to bear on all their interests, spi- 
ritual and temporal, and thus invested it with a reality and 
straightforward naturalness of thought and expression not often 
met with in the contemporaneous writings of Germanic or 
Eomance authors. 

The reality of old English literature, and its truth to nature, 
do by no means imply that it is not as highly original and inven- 
tive as those of other countries, which are less faithful expres- 
sions of the every-day thoughts, and feelings, and passions of 
humanity. No man supposes that Callot's fantastic figures are 
more imaginative than Eaphael's life-like creations ; or that Da 

vision,; ' and smet him on tlie side witL. the pike of his crosse staff, and seid thus : 
"Rise, wrech, and come to the dom,' 

Nor does the chronicler manifest any indignation at the ungracious reception of 
an unjust bull issued in 1402 : ' In this tjme cam oute a hulle fro the Court 
[Curia Eomana], whech rerokid alle the graces that had be graunted many seres 
before ; of whech ros mech slaundir and obliqui ageyn the Cherch ; for thei seide 
pleynly that it was no more trost to the Pope writing than to a dogge tail ; for as 
ofte as he wold gader mony, so oftyn wold he anuUen eld graces and graunt newe. 
— Capgrave, p. 281. 

* The Guelf and Ghibelline feud in Italy, though originating in the riralry of 
two German princely houses, was in general, howsver disguised, at bottom, little 
else than a contest between the imperial throne and the^ papal see for the temporal 
supremacy, which both aspired to wield as the representative and successor of the 
Koman Csesars. _ 

t Church History, iv. 155, 



10 ENGLISH LITERATURE IMAGINATIVE Lect. I. 

Vinci wrought under a higher inspiration when he drew his 
caricatures than when he designed the Last Supper. The 
early literature of England, which originated comparatively few 
of what are technically called romantic works, was abundantly 
fertile in the exercise of that best function of the imagination, 
thB creation of forms of humanity whose constitution and action 
are, throughout, in accordance with the law of man's nature ; 
and we find in it, before we arrive at the close of the fourteenth 
century, the germs of every species of inventive composition 
which English bards and dramatists have since made illustrious. 
Indeed, so truly did imaginative and creative power characterise 
the early vernacular literature of England, that, in spite of the 
life-like, homely truth of its personages and its scenery, actual 
historical narrative had but a very subordinate place in it. The 
northern and southern extremes of Christendom, Grothic Iceland 
and Eomance Spain, as well as polished France, had produced 
historical works which almost dispute the palm with Herodotus*, 
but their literatures, though teeming with extravagant fictions 
and elaborate and cunningly wrought versified compositions, 
could not yet boast a single great poet. Anglo-Norman Eng- 
land, on the other hand, had given birth to no annalist who de- 
serves the name of a historian ; but had, in Chaucer, bestowed 
upon the world a poet who, both in sympathy with external 
nature, and in the principal element of dramatic composition — 
the conception of character, the individualising of his personages 
— had far outstripped whatever else the imaginative literature 
of Christendom had produced. 

In these studies, the progress of our investigations is often 
arrested by the want of sufficient materials to enable us satis- 
factorily to determine the true character of particular branches 
of literary eff'ort, or even to decide questions of pure gi'am- 
matical form. The publication of such of the remaining me- 
morials of early English and Anglo-Saxon literature as still 
survive only in manuscript will do something to supply our 

* See Illustration III. at the end of this lecture. 



Lect. h LOSS OF EAKLY WRITERS 11 

defect of knowledge in tliese particulars ; but much of what we 
know to have once existed in those dialects has irrecoverably 
perished, and the extant records of the intellectual action of 
England in the fourteenth and previous centuries have come 
down to us in such an imperfect, and often evidently corrupted 
form, that we shall never be as well acquainted with the gram- 
mar and the literature of the Anglo-Saxon and the transition 
periods as with those of the corresponding eras in the history of 
Continental philology. 

The destruction of the products of Anglo-Saxon, of Anglo- 
Norman, and of early English genius, occasioned by the Danish 
invasions, the civil wars of different periods, and the suppression 
of the monasteries in the sixteenth century, is in many aspects 
much to be deplored, but for such apparent calamities there are, 
in the scheme of Providence, always sufficient compensations. 
Not only must the old crop be removed from the earth to make 
way for the new, but it must also be in a good measure con- 
sumed, before adequate stimulus can be felt for the industry 
which is required to produce another harvest. We have abun- 
dant reason to rejoice that Homer, and Thucydides, and Plato, 
and many master-pieces of the Grreek dramatists, that Terence, 
and Cicero, and Horace, and Virgil, and much of Tacitus, have 
escaped the casualties which have destroyed the works of other 
scarcely less renowned ancient authors ; but whether the exist- 
ence of the whole body of Greek and Eoman literature, down to 
the present day, would have been an advantage to modern 
genius, is quite another question. I have heard one of the 
most accomplished of American scholars, the most eloquent of 
American forensic orators, say — though, indeed, in that playful 
tone which so often left you in doubt whether his words were 
to be taken in earnest or in jest — that he thought the burning 
of the Alexandrian libraiy a most fortunate event for the 
interests of letters. Modern originality, he contended, would 
otherwise have been smothered, modern independence of thought 
overawed, and modern elasticity of intellect crushed down, by 



12 EFFECTS OF THE KEFORMATION I.ect. I. 

the luxuriant abundance, and authority, and weight of ancient 
literature. 

Grenius cannot thrive under too dense a shade. It requires 
room for its expansion, and air and sunlight for its nourish- 
ment. It is the solitary pasture-oak, not the sapling from the 
sheltered and crowded forest, that has made that tree a symbol 
of healthful vigour, and permanence, and strength. When the 
language and the literature of Athens had become so familiar at 
Eome that every Latin author wrote under the influence of 
Grrecian models, and every work of the imagination was tried 
by the canons of Grreek criticism, when the republic and the 
empire had plundered Hellas, and Sicily, and Asia Minor of their 
artistic wealth, and the capital counted as many statues as 
citizens, then native literature declined, and formative art — 
which, indeed, at Eome had never fairly risen above the imitative 
stage — became debased, and neither revived until, in the storms 
of the Middle Ages, so many of those precious achievements of 
Grrecian intellect and fancy had perished, that only enough were 
left to serve as incitements by their excellence, not enough to 
discourage further effort by a variety which had anticipated 
every conception of the creative imagination. The life and 
literature of a people may be inspirited, stimulated, modified, 
but not habitually sustained and nourished, by exotic food or 
the dried fruits of remote ages. Fresh nutriment must enter 
largely into the daily supply, and the intellect and heart of 
every nation must be stirred by living sympathies with the 
special good and evil of its own land and time, as well as with 
the permanent interests of universal humanity. 

Hence the destruction of so many of the works of Anglo- 
Saxon, Anglo-Norman, and early English writers is a loss, not 
to literature, but only to what is of less importance, the history 
of literature ; and we may find, in the direct benefits resultino- 
from the events which occasioned much of that destruction, 
sufficient consolation for the partial evils they caused. To that 
fierce Reformation which levelled the monasteries with the 



Lect. I. POPULAR LITERATU2B 13 

ground and scattered or annihilated their literary accumulations, 
but sowed living seed wherever it plucked up dry stubble, we 
owe Spenser, and Hooker, and Bacon, and Shakespeare, and 
Milton, not one of whom had been possible but for the fresh 
north-wind, which, by sweeping away the- swarm of old opinions, 
old facts, old thoughts, that hung like a darkening cloud over 
Europe, opened once more the blue sky, and the sun and stars 
of heaven to the vision of men. 

Bat though no inconsiderable share of the fruits of Saxon and 
of early English genius has perished, we have reason to think 
that most of their products which possessed intrinsic worth, or 
were of practical value to their own time, have come down to us 
in a more or less complete state ; for we do not find mention of 
many lost authors in terms which give reason to suppose that 
they were of special interest or importance. There is, however, 
evidence that certain branches of popular literature, in their 
rudimentary stages (if indeed that can be called literature which 
was perhaps never reduced to writing), are imperfectly repre- 
sented by their existing remains. I refer especially to the un- 
historical, traditional, or legendary narratives, which, whether 
song or saga, verse or prose, appear to have constituted, from 
the earliest times, a favourite amusement, and, indeed, almost 
the only refined enjoyment, of the secular orders among our 
remote progenitors. These were probably, in general, only 
orally transmitted from age to age, and we do not know enough 
of their character to be able to determine in what degree of 
relationship they stand to the national folk-lore of later ages. 
Several of the yet extant minor poems of the Anglo-Saxons 
possess much excellence ; and the lays which Alfred conde- 
scended to learn and sing could not have been absolutely mthout 
merit. I do not know that any Anglo-Saxon songs have been 
preserved which bear much resemblance to the English ballad, 
nor could this branch of poetical composition have originated 
in long poems like Beowulf, or the story of Brut, or the later 
romance of Alexander ; for the ballad properly turns on biogra- 



14: POPULAR POETRY Lect. L 

phical incidents, not mythical or historical events, and is there- 
fore radically different from these works, both in conception and 
in form. There are popular poems belonging to the youth, 
not the infancy, of English literature, which stand out so pro- 
minently from the lighter poetry of their time, and seem so 
completely to have anticipated the tone of later centuries, that 
we know not how to account for their appearance. The an- 
tiquity of these is certain ; and we cannot but suspect that they 
are fragmentary remains of a body of certainly not Saxon, but 
early English poetry, of which most of the known ballad, and 
other popular literature of England, would give us no idea. 
Perhaps the most remarkable of them are the well-kno^vn ana- 
creontic, called by Warton ' a drinking-ballad,' though not tech- 
nically a ballad, first printed in Gammer Grur ton's Needle, in 
1575 — but of which there are manuscript copies much older in 
date — and the poetical dialogue, The Nut-brown Maid, which 
first appeared in that strange medley, Arnold's Chronicle, 
printed in 1521. Were these compositions now to be judged 
upon internal evidence, and by comparison with other English 
poetry of their time and class, they would be unhesitatingly 
pronounced clever literary impostures, of a much later date; 
but their genuineness is not open to question. 

Although much of Saxon as well as of old English prose and 
verse has perished, there still remains enough of the latter, if 
not to enable us to form a complete estimate of the intellectual 
products, popular and scholastic, of the transition period, yet at 
least to disclose the primitive form of nearly every branch of 
English literature which has flourished in later ages. 

In discussing the subject before us, I shall endeavour to draw 
the attention of my hearers rather to the literary adaptations 
and capacities of the English language than to the peculiarities 
of its grammar. I adopt this method partly because the mi- 
nutiae of inflectional and syntactical structure cannot, without 
much difficulty, be made clearly intelligible to the ear; partly 
because, in the want of accessible material for study and com 



Lect. I. THE ROMANCE LANaUAGES 15 

parison, there are many important questions of grammatical 
history upon which it is not yet possible to arrive at definite 
conclusions; and the mere suggestion of conjectural theories, 
unsupported by probable evidence, would tend only to mislead 
and embarrass. 

The Eomance languages are much more homogeneous in con- 
struction than the English ; they are all derived, by more or 
less direct processes, from one and the same ancient tongue, or, 
rather, group of nearly related dialects, and they so far conform, 
in their grammatical structure, to the Latin, the common repre- 
sentative of them all, and to each other, that the means of 
illustrating their forms by comparison and analogy are very 
abundant. If there be a hiatus in the table of descent in one 
of these languages, it may generally be supplied from the gene- 
alogy of another, and hence there are comparatively few points 
in their etymology, or in their early history, which are either 
wholly unexplained, or which stand as anomalous, unrelated 
philological facts.* Another circumstance has contributed to 
save their grammar from much of the confusion and obscurity 
in which, as we shall see, the inflectional and syntactical system 
of early English is involved. The Latin was the only Italic 
dialect known to the Middle Ages which possessed an alphabetic 
system ; and the new popular speeches, when first reduced to 
writing, naturally conformed in their leading features to the 
orthography of that language, which still remained a living 
tongue among the clergy of the one only organised branch of 
the visible Church in Western Europe — one might almost add, 
among the common people of Italy — and furnished at once a 
model and a standard of comparison for the expression of vocal 
sounds by written characters in all the Eomance family.j Hence, 

* See Illustration IV. at the end of this lecture. 

t The studenfwill find in Fauriel, 'Dante, et les origines de la Langue et de la 
Litterature Italiennes,' much interesting information on the extensive use of the 
Latin language in Italy in the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries. Not 
only was popular preaching in Latin common in that country in the last-mentioned 
century, but Dante was expoimded to the people in that language. 



16 THE ROMANCE LANGUAGES Lect, L 

although manuscripts of the Middle Ages in those dialects are 
sufficiently discrepant in their orthography to create occasional 
embarrassment, yet, in the notation of the inflectional syllables 
in any one of them, there is not the same wide range of varia- 
tion as in early English, where, from the want of a general 
authoritative standard, orthography fluctuated, following now 
Grothic and now Romance precedent, with an uncertainty which 
conspired with great irregularity in the use of the inflections 
themselves, to produce an irreconcilable diversity. For these 
reasons it has been found practicable to construct, for the 
successive periods in the philological history of the different 
Eomance dialects, accidences and rules of concord and regimen, 
which probably approach almost as nearly to accuracy as the 
dialects themselves approached to uniformity in use. But with 
all these advantages, the precise knowledge of the primitive 
grammar of the Romance languages has advanced slowly, and it 
is scarcely a generation sioce Raynouard discovered even so 
simple a thing as the difference between the plural and singular 
form of the noun in the dialect of Northern France. 

For a variety of reasons, both the facilities and the induce- 
ments for the study of early English grammar have been fewer 
and less effectual than for corresponding researches in France 
and other Continental countries ; and when we take into account 
also the greater inherent difficulties of the subject, it is not sur- 
prising that thus far there is not a general agreement of scholars 
on many cardinal points of early English inflection, and indeed 
that no thorough, systematic and comprehensive attempt at the 
investigation of these questions has yet been made.* The 
serious study of English has but just begun, and it is not a 

* I ought here to draw the attention of the reader to the remarkable * Wissen- 
schaftliche Grammatik der Englischen Sprache ' of Fiedler and the valuable con- 
tinuation of it by Sachs, neither of which became known to me until after this 
volume was ready for the press. They are, however, unsatisfactory, not so much 
from want of philological acumen, as because they are founded on a too limited 
range of early authorities, and because they do not trace, with sufficient distinct- 
ness, the historical development of the language. 



Lect. I. GOOD EDITIONS WANTED 17 

generation since sound linguistic philosophy was first brought 
to bear actively and effectively upon it. The method of this 
study Anglican scholars have learned from German teachers, 
and, from the natural inclination of the pupil to tread in the 
steps of his master, there is a strong tendency now, while the 
facts of English philological history are yet but imperfectly 
known, to place the theory of English grammar on the same 
advanced footing as that of the Grerman, the early stages of which 
have been far more thoroughly investigated. 

The great mass of scholars otherwise competent to enter on 
such speculations have at present the means of using but a part 
of the material which is absolutely indispensable to the esta- 
blishment of general conclusions. Manuscripts are accessible to 
comparatively few, and accurately printed editions of old authors 
axe not yet numerous enough to furnish the necessary data. 
We have admirable editions of Layamon and the Ormulum, as 
well as of some less conspicuous literary monuments not widely 
distant in date from those works. We possess the Wj^cliffite 
versions, also, in an extremely satisfactory form, but very few 
other English authors of the fourteenth century exist in editions 
which at all meet the demands of critical scholarship. Chaucer 
is, both for literary and for grammatical purposes, the most im- 
portant source of information respecting the vigorous youth of 
the English tongue, but — with the possible exception of 
Wright's Canterbury Tales, founded almost entirely on a 
single manuscript — we have, so far as I am aware, no edition 
of any of the works of that great author which is worthy of 
confidence as an exhibition of the grammatical system, I will 
not say of Chaucer himself, but even of any one of the scribes 
who have copied his writings. No competent scholar has yet 
subjected the manuscripts of Chaucer to a critical examination 
and comparison ; and hence we cannot pretend to pronounce 
with certainty upon what is a very important, and would seem 
beforehand a very obvious matter, the precise extent, namely, to 

c 



18 lEEEaULAKITT OF EARLY ENGLISH Leci*. I. 

which, in that author's works, the syntactical relations of words 
are determined by inflection.* 

Only a single English work of the thirteenth century has been 
brought within our reach in such a form as to authorise us to 
speak positively upon the syntactical system which the author 
followed. This is the Ormulum, of which, fortunately, but a 
single manuscript, apparently the original itself, is known. But 
the value of this otherwise most important philological monu- 
ment is much diminished by the uncertainty of its date and of 
the locality of its dialect, and by the fact that there does not 
exist, at least in print, enough literary material of its own pro- 
bable period to serve as a test by which its conformity to the 
general contemporary usage of the language can be tried, or to 
which it can itself be applied as a standard of comparison. 

But in all inquiries into the grammatical history of early 
English, it must be borne in mind that such was the dialectic 
confusion, and such the irregularity of orthography, that we are 
not warranted in affirming of scarcely any one form, or any one 
spelling, that it was normal for its time. It is as true of ortho- 
graphy and grammar as of literary form, that there is no unity 
until great authors arise and become generally recognised as 
authoritative standards. The founders of a national literature, 
therefore, conform not to previously settled and acknowledged 
canons of national speech, for none such exist, but to some par- 
ticular dialect, or they perhaps frame a more or less eclectic 
diction, and by their authority establish a grammar, first for 

* I think no man who has made Chaucer a study can doubt that he had an 
orthographical, a grammatical, and a prosodical system, though we have not yet 
succeeded in finding the key to them. Besides the very strong internal evidence 
of his works, we have, in his address to Adam, scrivener, and in Troilus and 
Creseide, Book V. v. 1804 — 7, direct testimony to a solicitude for the careful 
copying of his manuscripts, which proves that he by no means wrote at random. 

What is wanted is not a made-up text of Chaucer, conjectural or eclectic, but a 
literal reproduction of one or more of the best manuscripts, with various readings 
from all the others which have any pretensions to authority, — in short, an edition 
conducted on the same principles as the noble "Wycliffite versions by Forshall and 
Madden. 



Lect. I. GEBMAN DIALECTS 19 

their literary followers, and, after some time, for the nation. 
No full and comprehensive general work on English dialecto- 
logy, ancient or modern, has yet appeared. Very confident 
opinions, indeed, are pronounced with respect to early English 
dialects and their relation to modern local patois, but certainly 
very many of these find no sufficient support in the printed evi- 
dence on the subject ; and if we are yet authorised to draw any 
conclusion, it is that the diversities were too numerous to admit 
of being grouped or classified at all, with any precision of chro- 
nological or geographical limitation. 

German must be considered to have been a written language, 
and to have possessed a literature much earlier than our com- 
posite English. The Nibelungen-Lied in its recorded form 
is placed at about the year 1200, and there were numerous 
written compositions between that period and the year 1300, in 
different Grerman dialects, and of a character likely to be, and 
which we know actually to have been, widely circulated. Now 
the tendency of a popular written literature is to harmonise the 
discordances of language, and we have sufficient evidence that, 
for many centuries, the dialects have been dying out, and that 
Grerman has been both spoken and written with constantly in- 
creasing uniformity ; and yet, in spite of all this, we find in 
Firmenich's collection examples of some hundreds of Grermanic 
dialects alleged to be actually spoken at the present day, and 
Stalder has given us the parable of the Prodigal Son in forty- 
two Grerman and twenty-seven Eomance patois employed in 
Switzerland alone. In all this, no doubt, there is an enormous 
exaggeration, which has been produced by giving a phonographic 
spelling of the colloquial pronunciation of words really the same 
almost everywhere, and differenced in form only as any two 
speakers would vary in uttering, and any two listeners in pho- 
nographically recording them. There are shades of difference 
in the articulation of almost any two members of the same 
family, brother and sister, husband and wife, for example, and 
two persons often differently hear, and would differently express 

c 2 



20 LOCAL DIALECTS Lect. I. 

in alphabetical characters, the pronunciation of the same indi- 
vidual. If a half-hour's conversation in one of the most culti- 
vated circles in England or America were to be written down by 
two observers, from the ear, and without regard to the conven- 
tional orthography of the words employed, we should have, not 
simply a dialect which to the eye would vary vvddely from that 
of books, but the two reporters would give us two dialects vary- 
ing almost as much from each other as either from the standard 
orthography ; besides which, each of the speakers would appear 
to have his own subordinate patois. Hence, most of this alleged 
diversity of dialect is imaginary, subjective in the listener, or 
accidental in the speaker, and the vfell-trained ear of a single 
person would find no such extent of constant difference as the 
printed collections vrould lead us to suppose. 

Until, however, the smaller states and communities of medise- 
val Europe were absorbed into the larger political organizations, 
and until national literatures had been created, and a greater 
fixity and universality given to linguistic forms by the invention 
of printing, the real local differences of speech were constantly 
augmenting, but in more recent periods, the written and printed 
page, the frequent reference to acknowledged standards of gram- 
mar and orthography, have served as a constant corrective, 
which, in England as well as on the Continent, is always bring- 
ing all deviations back to the normal form.* In the thirteenth, 
and until near the close of the fourteenth centuries, the people 
of England had no such standards, and the actual diversities of 
dialect, though perhaps less numerous and important than the 
orthographical differences between the manuscripts would seem 
to indicate, were nevertheless probably greater than they are 
in any European nation, of equal numbers, at the present day. 

From all this it will be evident that whatever may be the 
value of a precise historical knowledge of primitive English 
grammar and literature in all their manifestations, such know- 

* See First Series, Lecture XXI., p. 453 and following pages. 



Lect. I. ENGLISH GRAMMAR PECULIAR 21 

ledge is not attainable at this time, and witli such means as are 
accessible to American, and, generally, English scholars ; and 
an attempt to present to you anything more than an approxi- 
mate estimate of their peculiarities would be but a piece of 
charlatanism, alike discreditable to the speaker and unprofitable 
to the audience. 

But there is a further difficulty. The Anglo-Saxon and the 
Norman-French, from the union of which the English is chiefly 
derived, were inflected languages, and had the syntactical 
peculiarities common to most grammars with inflections ; but 
in the friction between the two, the variable and more loosely 
attached growths of both were rubbed off, and the speech of 
England, in becoming stamped as distinctively English, dropped 
so many native, and supplied their place with so few borrowed, 
verbal and nominal endings, that it ceased to belong to the 
inflected class of tongues, and adopted a gi-ammar, founded in a 
considerable degree upon principles which characterise that of 
neither of the parent stocks from which it is derived. It is 
altogether a new philological individual, distinct in Hnguistic 
character from all other European speeches, and not theore- 
tically to be assimilated to them. 

But the difference between English and the Continental 
languages does not consist in the greater or less amount of 
inflection alone. The Danish, with the remarkable exceptions 
of the passive verb and the coalescent definite form of the 
noun, is almost as simple as English in this respect, but it is 
descended from an inflected tongue, with little mixture except 
from the Grerman, which belongs also to the Gothic stock, and 
has most of the same syntactical peculiarities as the Old- 
Northern, a local dialect of w^hich is the more immediate parent 
of the Danish. Danish, then, is the product of two cognate 
languages, minus a certain number of inflections, not, indeed, 
strictly common to both, but represented in both. But English 
stands in Jio such relation to its Grothic and Eomance sources. 
The Danish is an intimate mixture of substances much alike in 



22 CONTINENTAL GRAMMAR LscT. I. 

their elementary character, and it is often impossible to say from 
which of its two constituents particular linguistic features have 
been derived. English is a patchwork of two, or rather, three 
tissues, dissimilar in material as well as in form, and to a distant 
observer has a prevailing hue very different from that of either 
of them, though, upon a nearer approach, the special colour and 
texture of each web is discernible.* 

The general and obvious distinction between the grammar of 
the English and that of the Continental tongues is, that whereas 
in the latter the relations of words are determined by their 
form, or by a traditional structure of period handed down from 
a more strictly inflectional phase of those languages, in English, 
on the other hand, those relatioiis do not indicate, but are 
deduced from, the logical categories of the words which compose 
the period, and hence they must be demonstrated by a very 
different process from that which is appropriate for syntaxes 
depending on other principles.! A truly philosophical system 
of English syntax cannot, then, be built up by means of the 
Latin scaffolding, which has served for the construction of all 
the Continental theories of grammar, and with which alone the 
literary public is familiar, but must be conceived and executed 
on a wholly new and original plan. 

The Continental method of grammatical demonstration is un- 
suited to the philosophy of the English speech, because it subor- 
dinates syntax to inflection, the logical to the formal. We may 
regard syntax, the analysis of the period or the synthesis of its ele- 
ments, in two different aspects : as an assemblage of rules for 
determining the agreement and government of words by corre- 
spondence of form, or as a theory of the structure of sentences 
founded upon the logical relations of words, without special con- 
sideration of their forms. The first, or more material and mechani- 
■ cal view belongs especially to highly inflected languages, as to the 
Latin, for example, and in a less degree to the Grerman; the latter, 

* See, on Frencli and Latin constructions in English, Lecture IL 
t See First Series, Lecture XVL, p. 347. 



Lect. I. FEENCH GRAMMAR 23 

or more intellectual, to those whose words are invariable, or nearly 
so, as the English. English grammar is not to be taught by 
tables of paradigms and rules of concord and regimen, and we 
must either, as we do with young children, treat syntax as a 
collection of arbitrary models for the arrangement of words in 
periods, which are to be learned by rote, and followed afterwards 
as unreflectingly as the processes of a handicraft, or we must 
consider the construction of the sentence a logical problem, to 
be solved by an almost purely intellectual calculus, and with 
very few of the mechanical facilities which simplify, if they do 
not lighten, grammatical study in most other tongues. 

The French presents the curious phenomenon of a language 
inflected in its written forms, but for the most part uninflected 
in actual speech, and hence its syntax is mixed ; but still the 
word has been mightier than the letter, in so far that it has 
imposed upon even the written dialect a structure of period in 
some degree approximating to that of languages whose words 
are unchangeable in form.* But grammarians think in the 
language of books, and all oral departures from that dialect are, 
with them, anomalies or corruptions not entitled to a place in a 
philosophical view of speech. 

Hence there exists no grammar of spoken French, and the 
theorists of that nation persist in regarding wha,t are really 

* This distinction "between oral and written French is important to he kept in 
mind in all inquiries into the influence of Norman-Erench on English syntax. 
There is indeed much uncertainty as to the pronunciation of Norman-French at 
and for some centuries after the Conquest, but various circumstances render it 
probable that there was, at that period, almost as great a discrepancy between the 
language of books and that of the market, in all the dialects of STorthern France, 
as there is at the present day. Written French had its special influence on 
English ; but the spoken tongue of the Norman immigrants was undoubtedly a 
much more important agent in modifying the language of England. See First 
Series, Lecture XXI., and the works of Palsgrave and Genin there referred to. 
It must be remembered that Anglo-Saxon also had not only its local dialects, but 
its general colloquial forms, which, in all probability, differed very widely from the 
written tongue. Anglo-Saxon English is derived not wholly from the Anglo- 
Saxon of books, which alone is known to us, but in a great measure, no doubt, 
from a spoken tongue that has now utterly perished, except so far as it has lived 
on, first in the mouths and then in the literature, of the modem English people. 



24 STUDY OF LANGUAGB Lect. I. 

syntactical differences between their two dialects as mere ques^ 
tions of pronunciation. The French of the grammarians is an 
inflected, and properly a dead language *, the Grerman inflected 
but living, and the signification of the period is controlled by 
the inflections in both. It is natural, therefore, that the philolo- 
gists of those nations should, in their grammatical inquiries, be 
specially attracted by the variable portion, the inflectional 
characteristics of words, and should less regard the logical 
relations which may, and in English do exist almost indepen- 
dently of form. However learned Continental scholars may be 
in the literature, the concrete philology of tongues foreign to 
their own, they have, in their grammatical speculations on those 
tongues, until recently, rather neglected syntax, except so far as 
it necessarily connects itself with correspondence of endings.t 

The ultimate objects of the present course are philological, not 
linguistic. I shall therefore make the presentation of gram- 
matical facts and theories always subordinate to the elucidation 
of the literary products and capacities of the English speech, and, 
so far as the grammar is concerned, I shall attempt little beyond 
a general view of the processes — loss and gain of inflections, 
and changes in the arrangement of words — by which the Anglo- 
Saxon syntactical period has been converted into an English 
one. 

I have already urged what seem to me suflicient reasons for 
adopting this method, but were these grounds wanting, I should 



* The theoretical supremacy of the alphabetical, written, over the oral tongue of 
France is remarkably exemplified in the laws of verse, for coupled endings in 
French poetry must, in general, rhyme to the eye as well as the ear. Thus, for 
example, the feminine possessive pronoun, or its homonym the first and third 
person singular present subjunctive, tienne, cannot be rhymed with the plural 
verb viennent, nor is mien a good rhyme to liens, though the consonance in 
both cases is unimpeachable. 

t Bvirguy's grammar of the Langue d'Oil, though exceedingly full upon the 
forms of individual words, is altogether silent upon syntax, except in the mere 
matter of concord. Eask's numerous grammars pursue much the same method, 
but Diez, Grammatik der Eomanischen Sprachcn, and other late German philo- 
logists, are much more complete on this point. 



I.ECT. I. LINGUISTIC STUDIES 25 

find others not less satisfactory in the opinion I entertain that 
the study of language is, in this country at least, taking too 
generally a wrong direction. 

What is properly called philology, that is, the study of lan- 
guages in connection with, and as a means to the knowledge of 
the literature, the history, the whole moral and intellectual action 
of different peoples, is much neglected by American scholars, and 
a professedly profound, but really most superficial research into 
linguistic analogies and ethnological relations is substituted 
instead. The modern science of linguistics, or comparative 
grammar and etymology, requires for its successful pursuit a 
command of facilities, and above all a previous discipline, which, 
in the United States, is within the reach of but a small propor- 
tion of men disposed to literary occupations, and hence for the 
present it must be the vocation of a few, not a part of the general 
education of the many. American scholars seldom possess the 
elementary grammatical training which is the first requisite to 
success in the study I am speaking of, and it is a very gross 
and a very prevalent error to suppose that this training can be 
acquired by the perusal of theoretical treatises, or, in other 
words, that it is possible to become a linguist without first being 
a philologist. The best, indeed the only means we at present 
possess of imbuing ourselves with the necessary preparatory 
attainment is, a thorough mastery both of the forms and of tlie 
practical synthesis of the words which compose the languages of 
Grreece and Rome, and are organically combined in their lite- 
ratures. This attainment at once involves a discipline fitting us 
for linguistic investigation, and provides us with a standard of 
comparison by which to measure and test the peculiarities of other 
tongues. Kow, though forms may be taught by tables of stems 
and endings, yet combinations cannot, and the mastery we speak 
of is not to be attained by conning grammars and consulting 
dictionaries. It must be the product of two factors, a rote- 
laiowledge of paradigms and definitions, and a long and familiar 
converse with the intellect of classic antiquity as it still lives and 



26 LINGUISTIC STUDIES Lect. 1. 

moves in the extant literary remains of Greece a?ad Eome. We 
must know words not as abstract grammatical and logical quan- 
tities, but as animated and social beings. Eoots, inflections, 
word-book definitions, are products of the decomposition of 
speech, not speech itself. They are dead remains, stripped of 
their native attachments and functions, and hence it is that a 
living Danish scholar, himself a man of rare philological attain- 
ment and of keen linguistic perceptions, calls scholastic grammar 
*the grave of language.'* Had the founder of comparative 
anatomy contented himself with the examination of the osseous 
remains of dead animals alone, his science would have died, and 
deserved to die, with him; but it was his knowledge of par- 
ticular skeletons as the framework of living organisms that 
enabled him to divine and reconstruct the muscles, and 
veins, and fleshy tissues, and integuments that once made the 
bones of Montmartre breathiog and moving beings. Indi- 
vidually, words have no inherent force, inflected forms no sig- 
nificance, and they become organic and expressive only when 
they are united in certain combinations, accordiag to their special 
affinities, and inspii'ed with life by the breath of man. The 
study of forms and of the primary or abstract meaning of words 
must go hand in hand with wide observation of those forms and 
of the plastic modification and development of the signification 
of words, as exemplified in the living movement of actual speech 
or literature, and no amount of grammatical and lexical know- 
ledge is a substitute for the fruits of such observation. A scholar 
might know by rote every paradigm and every syntactical rule 
in the completest Grreek grammars, every definition in the most 
voluminous Grreek lexicons, and yet fairly be said to have no 
knowledge of the Grreek language at all. In short, a student of 
Greek, possessed of these elements onty, is just in the position 
of an arithmetical pupil who has learned the forms, names, and 
abstract values of the Arabic numerals and the theory of the 
decimal notation ; that is, he is barely prepared to begin the real 
*N. F. »S. Grundtvig, Verdens HiKtoriif}, I. iv. 



Lect. I. CAUSATIVE SPECULATION 27 

study of Ms subject. Inherently, his attainments are worth 
nothing, and it is only by practical familiarity with numerical 
combinations that they acquire real significance.* 

The want of a thorough knowledge of language as a vehicle 
of literature and of actual speech is painfully manifested in much 
of the philological, and especially etymological, discussion of our 
time and country. We have bold ethnological theories founded 
on alleged linguistic affinities, comprehensive speculations on 
the inherent significance of radical combinations, and confident 
phonological systems, propounded by writers who are unable to 
construe a page, or properly articulate the shortest phrase in any 
language but their own. f Nor is this theoretical dreaming by 
any means confined to the scholarship of the United States. A 
rage for causative speculation is characteristic of the philosophy 
of the day. Vast as is the accumulation of facts in every branch 
of human knowledge, the multiplication of theories has been 
still more rapid, ?md even in G-ermany, where the unflagging 
industry of Teutonic research is heaping up such immense 
stores of real knowledge, the imaginative and the constructive 
faculties are yet more active than the acquisitive. A Grerman 
inquirer, indeed, does not pause until he has amassed all the 
knov/n facts belonging to or bearing upon his subject, but the 
want of sufficient data, where the necessary elements are not all 
attainable, rarely deters him from advancing a theory. However 
inadequate his observations may prove to warrant final conclusions, 
he seldom fails to give the rationale of the recorded phenomena, 
and if he can obtain but one linguistic fact, he turns that one 

* See Illustration V. at the end of this lecture. 

t It would indeed he ahsurd to insist that a linguist can never he competent to 
compare the structure of languages whose literature he has not mastered, but he 
can become so only by an intimate knowledge of not the grammar alone, but the 
living philology of several tongues possessing fully developed inflectional systems. 
It is only by means of an acquaintance v/ith multifarious literatures in combina- 
tion with the anatomy of their vehicles, that scholars are able to rise to those 
philosophical and comprehensive views of the essential character of language and 
the relations of languages which distinguish the writings of Max Miiller and 
some other linguists of the Contiaental schools. 



28 LINGUISTIC THEORIES LecT. L 

into a lawj or, in other words^ generalises it, with scarcely less 
confidence than he sums up the results of a million. 

Comparative philology is in its infanc}^ — a strong and vigorous 
infancy indeed, but still, in its tendencies and habits, too preco- 
cious. It is the youngest of the sciences. Modern inquirers 
have- collected a very great number of apparently isolated 
philological facts, they have detected multitudes of seeming, 
as well as numerous well-established linguistic analogies, and 
they have found harmony and resemblance where, imtil lately, 
nothing had been discovered but confusion and diversity. But 
still here, as everywhere else, speculation is much in advance of 
knowledge, and many of the h3^potheses which are sprouting 
like mushrooms to-day, are destined, like mushrooms, to pass 
away to-morrow. 

The too exclusive contemplation of isolated forms has led to 
the adoption of many linguistic theories which, I am persuaded, 
will not stand the test of investigation, conducted with Avider 
knowledge and with, more comprehensive lights, drawn, not 
from comparison of paradigms alone, but from the whole field 
of social and literary history. It is maintained, for instance, by 
a class of linguists who insist on explaining changes in language, 
not by facts within the reach of actual observation, but by as- 
sumed inherent laws of speech, that the stage of development 
when languages form inflections belongs wholly to the ante-his- 
torical, I might almost say, the fossil ages ; and it is confidently 
asserted that no new inflections now are, or, within the period 
through which w^e can trace the history of language by its monu- 
ments, ever have been, constructed in any human tongue. Yet 
every Komance, and some of the Gothic dialects, present not one 
only, but several demonstrable, recent instances of the formation 
of new coalescent inflections, precisely analogous in force to 
those of ancient languages.* 

•=^ See First Series, Lectiires XV. and XVI. The historical evidences of a ten- 
dency to the formation of new coalescent inflections in the European languages in 
the Middle Ages are, I believe, more numerous in the Dutch literature of the thir 



Lect. I. HASTY ETYMOLOGIES 29 

111 like manner, the general reception of the well-established 
theory of a relationship between most European languages, and 
their common, or rather parallel, descent from an Oriental 
source or sources, has given birth to very hasty conclusions 
with regard to the actual biography of individual vocables. 
Etymologists incline to neglect the historical method of deduc- 
tion in their inquiries, and to refer Grothic and Eomance v/ords 
directly to any Sanscrit, Celtic, or Sclavonic root which happens 
to resemble them, instead of tracing, in literature and in speech, 
the true route by which, and the source from v/hich, they have 
migrated into our mother-tongue.* The former is the least 
laborious and the most ambitious method. It is easier, by the 

teentli and fourteenth centuries than in any other. The student vrill find lists of 
such coalescences, some of which are yery curious and instructive, in the notes to 
Floris ende Blancefloer, in Hoffmann von Fallersleben's Horoe Belgicse, Part III. ; 
to Caerl ende Elegast, same collection, Part IV. ; to Ferrgunt, published by Viss- 
cher, and to the Leven van Sinte Christina, edited by Bormans, &c. The in- 
clination of children to conform the conjugation of the English verb, in all cases, 
to what is called the weak (better, the regular) method of inflection is familiar to 
every observing person. There was a similar tendency in the early stages of some 
of the modern Italian dialects. Biondelli, 'Poesie Lombarde Incdite,' p. 108, note, 
observes: ' Volio per voile, ci e nuova proA^a dello sforzo col quale ai tempi del 
Bescape si evitavano tutte le irregolarita nella formazione dei tempi passati e del 
partecipj. Possiamo asserire, che le regole grammaticali a cio destinate erano 
senza eecezione.' These departures from precedent are not, indeed, strictly new 
inflections, but they are instances of the operation of a principle which might lead 
to new inflections. It is to the same cause that we are to ascribe the completion 
of the conjugation of the defective Latin verbs in modern Italian. The associate 
verb, Esse, sum, fui, I believe, never became regular; but an dare, now asso- 
ciate, was originally regularly conjugated in Italian, as its compounds ri an dare, 
&c., are still. An dare is indeed not classical Latin, but it belongs to an early 
period of Eomance etymology. 

^' To scholars of any pretensions to sound linguistic learning, this train of 
remark is certainly superfluous ; but when we find, in a dictionary which popular 
faA^our has carried through seven editions, such astonishing absurdities as the 
Portuguese etymologies of Constancio, and in the most widely circulated of En- 
glish dictionaries such speculations as those of "Webster on the words alleged to 
be cognate with the Hebrew barak, it is evident that there is a large class of 
book-buyers and book-makers who need to be enlightened in regard to the true 
principles of etymological research. See Webster's Dictionary, Introduction, p. 
xxxvi., and etymology of 2^rcach, s. v., which, as well as the cognate words of the 
same meaning in other European languages, is simply the Latin prsedico, but is 
referred by "Webster to the Hebrew barak. 



30 UNSOUND ETYMOLOGIES Lect. I. 

help of the alphabetic arrangement of vocabularies, to turn over 
a dozen dictionaries, and gather around a given English word a 
group of foreign roots which contain more or fewer of the same 
vocal elements, and exhibit a greater or less analogy of mean- 
ing, than to seek the actual history of the word by painful 
research into the records of travel, and commerce, and political 
combination, and religious propagandism, and immigration, and 
conquest, which are the ordinary means of the dissemination of 
words ; but the result obtained by this tedious and unostenta- 
tious method are of far greater value, and far deeper philosophi- 
cal interest, than theories which, by reversing the process, found 
ethnological descent, and build the whole fabric of a national 
history, extending through ten centuries, on the Eoman ortho- 
graphy of a single proper name belonging to a tongue wholly 
unknown to the Eomans themselves. 

In fact, undeniable as are many of the unexpected results of 
modern linguistic research, the mass of speculative inquirers are, 
under different circumstances, going beyond the extravagance 
of the etymologists of the seventeenth century. Of dead or 
remote languages these latter knew only Grreek, Latin, Hebrew, 
and Arabic, and they made no scruple to derive any modern 
word directly from any root, in any of these tongues, which in 
the least resembles it in form and signification, without at all 
troubling themselves about the historical probabilities of the 
case. Modern philologists have added to the attainments of 
their predecessors a knowledge of the vocabularies of the San- 
scrit, and Celtic, and Sclavonic, not to speak of numerous other 
dialects ; and not only are the root-cellars of all these considered 
as lawful plunder, whenever a radical is wanted, but, in the 
lack of historical evidence to show a connection between nations 
widely separated by space or time, the coincidence of a few 
words or syllables is held to be sufficient proof of blood-relation- 
ship. Hence etymology has become not an aid in historical 
investigation, but a substitute for it. A shelf of dictionaries is 
certainly a more cheaply wrought, and is thought a richer mine 



Lect. I. CONJECTTJUAL LIWauISTS 31 

of ethnological truth, than a library of chronicles or a maga- 
zine of archives ; and the most positive testimony of ancient 
annalists is overruled upon evidence derived from the comparison 
of a few words, the very existence of which, in the forms ascribed 
to them, is often a matter of much uncertainty.* 

The conjectural speculations of the present day on the gene- 
ral tendencies and fundamental laws of lano-uacje are even more 
doubtful than the historical deductions from supposed philologi- 
cal facts. We cannot, indeed, assume to place arbitrary limits 
to the advance of any branch of human knowledge, and there is 
no one philological truth which we are authorised to say must 
for ever remain an ultimate fact, incapable of further resolution 
or explanation, but there are many phenomena in speech 
which, in the present state of linguistic science, must be treated 
as ultimate. With respect to these, it is wise to forbear attempts 
to guess out their hidden meaning and analogies until we shall 
discover related facts, by comparison with which we may at 
length be able safely to generalise. 

But in all the uncertainty and imperfection of our knowledge 
on the subject of English philology, there still remains enough 
of positive fact to lead us to safe conclusions on the most promi- 
nent phenomena of our great grammatical and lexical revolu- 
tions ; and in a course which, it may be hoped, will serve to 
some as an introduction to the earnest study, if not of the in- 
flectional forms, yet of the spirit of early English literature, 
such a general view must suffice. 

■"" Contzen's 'Wanderungen der Kelten liistoriscli-lmtiscli dargelegt, 1861, is a 
remarkable instance of pure historical investigation. With a courage and in- 
iudustry rare even in Germany, the author, to use his own words, has endeavoured 
' an der Hand der Schriftsteiler des Alterthums Schritt vor Schritt voranzugehen, 
mid den das Auge einladenden Weg der Etymologien moglichst zu vermeiden, und 
hat iiberhaupt den aus der Spraehe geschopften Belegen nie die erste Stelle einge- 
raumt, ohwohl er die hohe Bedeutung derselben, zumal da "WO die Alton schweigen, 
nirgends verkannt hat.' In researches so conducted, etymology may safely be 
called in as a critical help in estimating the weight of testimony and in deter- 
mining questions upon v/hich the historical proofs are conflicting or suspicious ; 
but it is a hysteron-proteron to subordinate the positive evidence of credible 
witnesses to linguistic deduction. 



32 ENGLISH PHILOLOGY I.ect. I. 

AmoDg the many ends which we may propose to ourselves in the 
study of language, there is but one which is common and neces- 
sary to every man. I mean such a facility in comprehending, 
and such a skill in using, his mother-tongue, that he can play 
well his part in the never-ceasing dialogue which, whether be- 
tween the living and the living or the living and the dead, 
whether breathed from the lips or figured with the pen, takes 
up so large a part of the life of every one of us. For this pur- 
pose, the information I shall strive to communicate will be, cer- 
tainly not in quantity, but in kind, sufficient ; and though genius 
gifted with nice linguistic sense, and rare demonstrative powers, 
may dispense with such studies as I am advocating and illus- 
trating, I believe they will be found in general the most efficient 
helps to a complete mastery of the English tongue. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTKATIONS. 



I. (p. 3.) 

CHANGES IN ENGLISH:. 



I AM far from maintaining that the language of England lias at any 
time become a fixed and inflexible thing. In the adult man, physio- 
logical processes, not properly constitutional changes, go on for years 
before decay can fairly be said to have commenced. His organs, 
indeed, when he passes from youth to manhood, are already fully de- 
veloped, but, under favourable circumstances, and with proper training, 
they continue for some time longer to acquire additional strength, 
power of action and of resistance, flexibility, and, one might almost say, 
dexterity, in the performance of their appropriate functions. New 
organic material is absorbed and assimilated, and eiFete and superfluous 
particles are throAvn off; but in all this there are no revolutions analo- 
gous to those by which the nursling becomes a child, the child a man. 
So in languages emplo3^ed as the medium of varied literary effort, there 
is, as subjects of intellectual discourse, practical applications of scien- 
tific principle, and new^ conditions of social and material life multiply, 
an increasing pliancy and adaptability of speech, a constant appropria- 
tion and formation of new vocables, rejection of old and worn-out 
phrases, and revivification of asphyxiated words, a rhetorical, in short, 
not a grammatical change, which, to the superficial observer, may give 
to the language a new aspect, while it yet remains substantially the 
same. 

The chief accessions to the English vocabulary since the time of 
Shakespeare have been in the departments of industrial art and of 
mathematical, physical, and linguistic science. They merely compose 
nomenclatures, as in the case of chemistry, whose new terminology — 
though it enables us to speak and write of things, the existence and 
properties of which analysis has but lately revealed to us — has not 
appreciably affected the structure of the English tongue or the laws of 

D 



34 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. L 

its movement. In the dialect of imaginative comj^osition, in all pure 
literature, in fact, our vocabulary remains in the main unchanged, 
except, indeed, as it has been enriched by the revival of ex^^ressive 
words or forms which had imfortunately been suffered to become 
obsolete. 

n. (p. 7.) 

THE PAPACY. 

This ascription of divine authority and honours to the Pope is of 
frequent occurrence both in the Chronicle of Froissart, who was ail 
ecclesiastic, and in the writings of secular Continental authors in the 
Middle Ages. Indeed, it was so well understood to be a homage 
acceptable to the Bishops of Rome, that even Moslem monarchs appear 
to have used it in the complimentary addresses of their letters to the 
pontiff when they had a favour to ask. During the pontificate of Inno- 
cent VIII., a son of Mohammed the Conqueror, the accomplished Prince 
Djem, or Zizim, as he was often called in Europe, who had fled from 
Turkey after his father's death to escape the certain doom which im- 
pended over the head of the brothers of the reigning Sultan, was 
inveigled into the power of the Grand Master of the Knights of Rhodes 
by a safe- conduct, and thrown into prison. The mother and sisters of 
Djem retired to Cairo, and asked the intercession of Abd-ul-Aziz, 
* Soldan of Babilon,' for the release of the captive. Abd-ul-Aziz in- 
voked the intervention of Pope Innocent VIII. in a curious epistle, a 
translation of which is found in Arnold's Chronicle, reprint of 1811, 
pp. 159, 160. The letter is addressed: 'Unto the most holyest and 
fauorablist Price in erthe, Vicary and Lieftenant of Cryst, evermore 
during Lord Innocence the viii., . . . extirpator of synners . . . the 
stede of God vsing in erthe ; ' and elsewhere in the letter the pope is 
styled * as in a maner a God i erthe, and the sacred brethe of Cryst.' 

The subsequent details of this affair are worth adding, as an illustra- 
tion of the somewhat unfamiliar history of the times. Djem was sur- 
rendered by the Grand Master to Innocent VIII., and kept under 
surveillance during the life of that pontiff. Innocent was succeeded by 
a more celebrated ' extirpator of sinners,' Alexander VI., who treated 
the imfortunate prince with greater rigour, and soon received — perhaps 
invited — proposals from Sultan Bayezid II. for his assassination, and 
from Charles VIII. of France (who Avished to use him as an instrument 
in a war with Bayezid) for his piu'chase. After some higgling about 
terms, his Ploliness accepted the proposals and the money of both 



Lect. I. NOTES AND ILLIJSTKATIONS 35 

Kionarclis, and honourably redeemed liis pledges by first administering 
a dose of poison to Djem, and tlien delivering him over, while yet 
alive, to the King of France. 

Innocent VIII. was so little ashamed of his conduct in the matter, 
that he caused to be struck, or rather cast, a medal in commemoration 
of the bargain by which he engaged to act as the jailor of Djem — or 
perhaps he, to use a phrase of our day, merely accepted as a fait 
accompli the coining of the medal by some devout contemporary. 
Among the other treasures by which he was bribed to this dishonour- 
able stipulation, Baj^ezid had sent him a real or fictitious emerald, with 
the portraits of our Saviour and of St. Paul engraved upou it. This 
rare medal, which is about three and one-third inches in diameter, and 
in the specimen before me of gold, very thickly cast on a copper blank, 
has, upon the obverse, the head of Christ, with the legend ' ihs . XPC . 
SALVATOR . M^Ts^Di,' or of St. Paul, and upon the reverse is this inscrip- 
tion, in a Latin worthy of the subject : — 

PRESENTES . FIGVRE . AD . SIMILITVDINEM . DOMINI . IHESV . SyVLVATORIS . 
KOSTRI . ET . APOSTOLI . PAVLI . IN . AMIRALDO . IlilPRESSE . PER . MAGNI . THEVCRI . 
PREDECESSORES . ANTIA . SINGVLARITER . OBSERVATE . MISSE . SYNT . AB . IPSO . 
JIAGNO . THEYCRO . S.D.N. PAPE . INNOCENCIO . OCTAVO . PRO . SINGVLARI . 
CLENODIO . AD . HVNC . FINEM . VT . SWM . FRATREM . CAPTIVVM . RETINERET. 

It is remarkable that this ascription of divinity to the head of the 
Pomish Church, after having fallen much into disuse, should have been 
revived in the days of the present pope. The Ultramontanist journals 
freely employ it ; and Bedini, Archbishop of Viterbo and Toscanella, 
noviT Cardinal, in a recent pastoral (1861) addressed to his diocesans, 
not only calls Pius IX. Christ's ' vicar on earth,' but asks the faithful to 
deposit their tribute of Peter's pence ' at the feet of the persecuted 
Man-God ' — ' ai piedi del perseguitatc Uom-Dio,' — thus applying to the 
pope the name by which the fathers of the Church expressed the incar- 
nation of the Divinity in man. Christ Avas to them the Qe-avOpuiTtoQ or 
Qi-avcpoQ ; to Cardinal Bedini, Pius IX. is the Man-God. 

III. (p. 10.) 

HISTORICAL LITERATURE OF THE MIDDLE AGES, 

In Icelandic, the authors of Njala, Laxdaela-Saga, and the Heims- 
kringla ; in French, Ville-Hardouin, Joinville, Froissart, and many 
other less important chroniclers ; in Catalan, Kamon Muntaner and 
Bernat d'Esclot, are all entitled to a place in the front rank of historical 

D2 



36 NOTES AND ILLUSTKATIONS Lect. I. 

writers, but no poet of those ages and countries still survives as an 
actually living influence in literature. Even the Eoman de la Rose is 
but little read, and that rather for linguistic than for literary purposes. 
The neglect into which this and other poems of this class have fallen, 
in spite of their abundant beauty of imagery, of thought, and even of 
expression, is the natural consequence of their deficiency in poNver of 
delineating character, and their want of unity of conception in plan and 
execution. The rhymed chronicles of the Middle Ages are generally 
wholly destitute of poetical merit, and they are rarely of much value 
considered simply as annals. They disregard historical truth, but fail 
to secure the graces of fable by the sacrifice. 

These observations, so far as poetry is concerned, do not apply to the 
literature of Germany. The admirable Teutonic epic, the Nibelungen- 
Lied, is almost as wonderful a phenomenon as the Iliad itself The 
oldest manuscripts of this poem belong to the earlier part of the thir- 
teenth century, and though it is founded on ancient and wide-spread 
Gothic traditions, it is neither proved nor probable that the rhapsodies 
of which it is composed existed in a collected, harmonised, and 
recorded form, at a period long previous to the date of these manuscripts. 
Considered, then, as a literary monument, the Nibeluugen-Lied is 
contemporaneous with the chronicle of Yille-Hardouin. But Germany 
has no vernacular historian of that epoch to boast, and in fact it may be 
said to be generally true of the infant age of every modern literature, 
with the exception of that of Italy, that it has not produced at the same 
time great poets and great historians. In point of literary merit, the 
Icelandic historical school ranks far above any other of the Middle 
Ages, and it is worth noticing that, — while the ablest chroniclers of 
the Romance nations confine themselves chiefly to the narration of 
events occurring under their own observation, or very near their own 
time, and in which they had often personally participated, or at least, 
known the principal agents, — very many of the most celebrated 
Icelandic sagas were composed at dates considerably later than the 
periods whose history they record. Hence, in early Romance historical 
literature, the personality of the annalist often makes itself conspicuous, 
and his narrative has a more subjective character than those of the 
sagas, the authors of Avhich are for the most part unknown, and not 
themselves dramatis personam. However sj)iritcd and brilliant may be 
the Romance chronicles in the description of events, they are vastly 
inferior to the sagas in the portraiture of all that goes to make up the 
personality of the individual. Few historical narrators have produced 
more completely full and rounded models of flesh and blood humanity 



Lect. I. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 37 

tlian Njall, and Gunnarr, and Hallgerdr, in Njala, and Hoskuldr, and 
Olaf the Peacock, and Kjartan, in Laxdtela. 

IV. (p. 15.) 

OEiaiN OF THE ROMANCE LANGUAGES. 

Until recently, philologists have habitually spoken loosely of the 
Romance languages as derived from the Latin, and are understood by 
common readers as meaning thereby the classical speech which served 
as the vehicle of the literature of ancient Rome. That the structure, 
and more especially the vocabulary, of the modern Romance tongues 
have been very greatly affected by the influence of Latin, as the lan- 
guage of Roman literature and of the Romish Church, is indisputably 
true ; but there is abundant evidence to show that, contemporaneously 
with the written language of ancient Rome, there existed a popular 
speech, comparatively simple in inflectional, and, of course, syntactical 
structure, and bearing a considerable resemblance to the modern written 
and spoken dialects of the Romance nations. This humble tongue is 
mentioned by many ancient Avriters under the name of lingua rustica, and 
it and its provincial dialects are considered by most philologists as the true 
parents of the languages now employed throughout Southern Europe. 
Although it is usually referred to by a collective name, there can be no 
question that it was divided into a great number of local dialects, more 
or less differing from each other and from v/ritten Latin, and that the 
differences between these dialects have been, to some extent at least, 
perpetuated in the modern languages which have succeeded to and now 
represent them. It is further povssible, perhaps we may even say 
probable, that there existed between the oral and the recorded dialects 
of the capital itself, some such relation as that between the written and 
the spoken French of the present day, and hence, that the language of 
conversation at Rome differed very considerably from that of literature. 

Besides the tendency to division and ramification which all languages 
show whenever the nations that speak them are themselves divided into 
fragments separated by physical or political barriers, there was, in 
ancient Italy, a special cause of confusion of speech, which of itself 
would account for a great departure of the oral from the written tongue, 
as well as for the breaking up of the spoken language, had it ever been 
uniform, into a multitude of dialects. I refer to the exhaustion of the 
rural population, and the substitution of foreign-born predial slaves and 
disbanded soldiers, from every part of the ancient l^nown world, for the 
native and aboriginal inhabitants of the soil. This exhaustion was 



38 



NOTES AND ILLFSTKATIONS Lect. I. 



produced bj tlie military conscription, by tbe tendency of population 
towards great commercial and industrial centres, which has again become 
so marked a feature of the associate life of Europe, and by the absorp- 
tion of the lesser estates into the domains of the great proprietors. 
The place of the conscript, or emigrant native peasant, was taken by 
servile and discharged military strangers to such an extent, that the 
Latin and other Italic races were said to have become almost extinct in 
the rural districts even before the days of the empire. These foreigners 
were of many different stocks and different tongues, and though the 
enslaved captives were distributed without much regard to community 
of origin or of speech, yet the disbanded veterans would naturally be 
colonised with some reference to their nationality, and hence each con- 
siderable allotment of military boimty lands would be a centre which 
would exercise a peculiar influence upon the language of its own vicinity, 
and thus tend to create a local patois, if none existed there before. 

Eaynouard, Lexique Eoman, I. xiii., observes : ' II est reconnu 
aujourd'hui que la romane rustique se forma de la corruption de la 
langue latine, que I'ignorance de ceux qui parlaient encore cette 
langue, a I'epoque de I'invasion des hordes du Nord, et leur melange 
avec ces hordes, modifierent d'une maniere speciale, par suite de laquelle 
le nouvel idiome acquit un caractere distinct d'individualite.' 

This theory supposes that the classical Latin was once the general 
popular speech, not only of Italy, but of Spain, Portugal, and France. 
This is an assumption, not only without proof, but at variance with 
probability, and there is no reason to believe that any one vulgar dialect 
ever had a great territorial range in the Italian peninsula, still less in 
the distant subjected provinces. We know historically that Italy was 
originally, or at least, at a very early period, peopled by many different 
races, which were at last united under the government, and forced into 
a confonuity with the institutions of Rome. But we have no proof 
that their vernaculars ever melted and harmonised into one uniform 
lingua rustica, and, indeed, the period through which the sway of Rome 
extended Avas altogether too short for such an amalgamation to have 
taken place under such circumstances. The rustic dialects are to be 
regarded not as corruptions of the Latin, or of any other single speech, 
but each as in a certain sense the representative of an older and more 
primitive tongue. Their natural resemblances are results of a tendency 
to coalesce, imposed upon them by the social and political influence of 
Rome, not evidence of greater likeness and closer relationship at an 
earlier stage. The Latin itself is but a compromise and an amalgama- 
tion of the linguistic peculiarities of older speeches, and it was probably 



r.ECT. I. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 39 

never employed as the vulgar tongue of Roman Italy to a greater extent 
than Tuscan is spoken at tliis day in the modern Italian States. So 
far from being the mother of the rustic patois, the Latin itself may 
■with greater truth be regarded as derivative, and as a coalescence of 
more ancient forms of them. This, indeed, is apparently less true of 
the grammar than of the vocabulary. The stock of words in Latin is 
evidently of a very mixed character, but the regularity and complete- 
ness of the inflections show that the grammar of some one ancient 
dialect very greatly predominates in the composite literary tongue of 
Eome. 

On the other hand, it must be admitted, that the general coincidence 
of vocabulary in the Eomance languages, and especially the occurrence 
of numerous words, substantially the same in all of them, but which can 
hardly be traced to a classical Latin source — such, for example, as It. 
acciajo, Sp. acero, Fr. acier; It. aguglia, Sp. aguja, Fr. 
aiguille; It. arrivare, Sp. arribar, Fr. arriver; It. bianco, Sp. 
bianco, Fr. blanc; It. bocca, Sp. boca, Fr. bouche; It. cac- 
ciare, Sp. cazar, Fr. chasser — seems to point to a community of 
origin which their grammatical discrepancies tend to disprove. Lite- 
rary and ecclesiastical influences have been very important agencies in 
bringing about a uniformity in the stock of words, and as to those voca- 
bles common to all the Romance dialects, but unknown to classical 
Latin, it is not improbable that they belonged to popular nomenclatures 
connected with the military or civil administration of the Roman 
government, and which were employed as v/idely as that government 
extended, though not forming a part of the literary tongue. — See On the 
Divergence of Dialects, Lecture II. 

V. p. (27.) 

GRAMMAR AND PHILOLOGY, 

A syntax which looks no higher than to rules of concord and regi- 
men, the determination of logical relations by the tallying of endings, is 
not a whit more intellectual than the game of dominoes. The study of 
linguistics is valuable, less as an independent pursuit, than as a means 
of access to a wider range of j)hilologies, understood in that broad sense 
in which the word is now used in German criticism. Happily for the 
interests of learning, most distinguished Continental linguists are phi- 
lologists also. On the other hand, American, and, I must add, English 
professed linguists, are in general but nibbling the shell while they 
imagine themselves to be enjoying the kernel of the i\ uit. I desire not 



40 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. L 

to be understood as trndervaluing the linguistic works of sucli men as 
Bopp and the brothers Grimm, whose labours have furnished the key to 
such vast'stores of literary wealth, but at the same time I maintain that 
the student of language who ends with the linguistics of Bopp and 
Grimm had better never have begun ; for grammar has but a value, 
not a worth ; it is a means, not an end ; it teaches but half-truths, and, 
except as an introduction to literature and that which literature embo- 
dies, it is a melancholy heap of leached ashes, marrowless bones, and 
empty oyster-shells. You may feed the human intellect upon roots, 
stems, and endings, as you may keep a horse upon saw-dust ; but you 
must add a little literature in the one case, a little meal in the other, 
and the more the better in both. Many years ago. Brown, an Ameri- 
can grammarian, invented what he called a parsing-machine, for teach- 
ing grammar. It was a mahogany box, some two feet square, provided 
with a crank, filled with cog and crown-wheels, pulleys, bands, shafts, 
gudgeons, couplings, springs, cams, and eccentrics; and with several 
trap -sticks projecting through slots in the top of it. When played 
upon by an expert operator, it functioned, as the French say, very well, 
and ran through the syntactical categories as glibly as the footman in 
Scriblerus did through the predicates. But it had one capital defect, 
namely, that the pupil mtist have learned grammar by some simpler 
method, before he could understand the working of the contrivance, 
and its lessons, therefore, came rather late. There are many sad ' com- 
pounds of printer's ink and brain- dribble,' styled * English Grammars,' 
which, as means of instruction, are, upoa the whole, inferior to Brown'a 
gimcrack. 



LECTUEE n. 

OEiaiN AND COIVIPOSITION OF THE ANGLO-SAXON PEOPLE AND 
THEIR LANGUAGE. 

Before proceeding to the immediate subject of the present 
lecture, I will offer an explanatory remark upon the nomencla- 
ture which, in common with many writers on European philo- 
logy, I employ. I shall make frequent use of the ethnological 
epithets, Grothic, Teutonic, Grermanic, Scandinavian, and Eo- 
mance. Under the term Grothic I include not only the extinct 
JMoeso-Grothic nation and language, and the contemporaneous 
kindred tribes and tongues, but all the later peoples, speeches, 
and dialects commonly known as Anglo-Saxon, Grerman, Dutch, 
Flemish, Norse, Swedish, Danish, and Icelandic, together with 
our composite modern English. All these are marked by a 
strong family likeness, and hence are assumed, though by no 
means historically proved, to be descended from a common 
original. With the exception of a few words, chiefly proper 
names, which occur in the writings of the Grreek and Latin 
historians and geographers, the oldest specimen v/e possess of 
any of the Grothic languages is the remnant of a translation of 
the Scriptures executed by Ulfilas, a bishop of the Mceso- Goths, 
but himself, according to Philostorgius, of Cappadocian descent, 
who lived on the shores of the Lov/er Danube, in the fourth 
century after Christ.* The Grothic languages divide themselves 
into — 

I. The Teutonic or Grermanic branch, which consists of — 1, 
the Mosso-Grothic ; 2, the Anglo-Saxon; 3, the Low-G-erman, 
or Saxon; 4, the Dutch, or Netherlandish, including the 
* See Illustrations II. and V, at the end of this lecture. 



42 GOTHIC LANGUAGES Lect. II. 

Flemisli; 5, the Frisic; and 6, the High-Grerman, to which 
may be added the Cimbric of the Sette and the Tredici Comuni 
in Italy*, and many Swiss and even Piedmontese patois. 

II. The Scandinavian branch, which embraces — 1, the Old- 
Northern, or Icelandic, improperly called Eunic by many earlier 
English philologists; 2, the Swedish; 3, the Danish, including 
the Norse, or Norwegian. 

III. The English, which, though less than half the words 
composing its total vocabulary are of Grothic descent, is classed 
with that family, because in its somewhat mixed gTammatical 
structure the Gothic syntax very greatly predominates, and a 
majority of the words employed in the ordinary oral intercourse 
of life, and even in almost any given literary composition, are 
of Gothic etymology. Perhaps, also, the Scottish should be 
regarded as a distinct speech, rather than as a mere dialect of 
English. 

All these, excepting the Moeso-Gothic, and presumably that 
also, have or had a great number of spoken, and many of them 
even written, more or less divergent dialects. I am aware 
that the propriety of this application of the terms Gothic, 
Teutonic, and Germanic is disputed ; but it has long been 
received, and will be better understood than any new phraseology, 

Eomance formerly meant — and is still defined in most dic- 
tionaries — the dialects of the Spanish and Italian borders of 
France ; but, in recent criticism, it is a generic term embracing 
all the modern languages usually regarded as cognate with the 
Latin, — inav/ord, the Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Catalan, or 
Lemosinf, Provencal, French, the Roumansch of several Swiss 

^ See First Series, Lecture VI., p. 140. 

f The Catalan or Lemosin is often spoken of as a dialect of Spanish. If by 
Spanish he meant the assemblage of speeches employed in Spain, the expression 
may be correct ; but if the Castilian, the written language of most parts of Spain, 
be intended, it is no more true that Catalan is a dialect of Spanish than it is that 
Spanish is a dialect of Catalan. Neither is a derivative or an oifshoot of the 
other. The development and history of each is independent of that of the other, 
and the Catalan is, in the important point of the construction of periods, quite 
as near to the French as to the Cftstilian. 



Lect. II. ORiaiN OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS 43 

commiinities in its various forms, and the Wallachian. These, 
also, are subdivided into many local dialects, or patois, several 
of which, especial^ in Italy, have been reduced to writing, and 
may not improperly be said to have their special literatures. 
We cannot affix a chronological date to the epoch of change 
from the rustic or provincial Eoman to the modern Eomance 
in any language of this family ; but, with the exception of single 
phrases in ancient liturgies, laws, and chronicles, the oldest 
extant monuments in a Eomance dialect are generally con- 
sidered to be the oaths of Louis le Grermanique and of certain 
French lords, subjects of Charles the Bald^ sworn at Strasburg 
in 842.* 

]&Iany recent inquirers believe that the Continental invaders, 
of Gothic origin, wdio reduced Celtic England to subjection a 
few centuries after Christ, emigrated from a small district in 
Sleswick now called Angeln, and were all of one race — the 
Angles, — that the designation Saxon was not the proper appel- 
lation of any of them, but a name ignorantly bestowed upon 
them by the native Celts, and at last, to some small extent, 
adopted by themselves. It is hence argued that the proper 
name of their language is not Saxon, or even Anglo-Saxon, but 
Angle, or, in the modern form, English. It is farther insisted 
that the present speech of England is nearly identical with the 
dialect introduced into the island by the immigrants in question, 
and consequently, that there is no ground for distinguishing the 
old and the new by different names, it being sufficient to cha- 
racterise the successive periods and phases of the Anglican 
speech by epithets indicative of mere chronological relation, 
saying, for instance, for Anglo-Saxon, old, or primitive English, 
— for our present tongue, nev/, or modern English. 

I differ from these theorists as to both premises and conclu- 
sion.f By those who maintain such doctrines, it appears to be 
assumed that if the evidence upon which it has been hitherto 

^ See Illustration I. at the end of tliis lecture. 
t See First Series, Lectm-e I., pp. 41 — 45. 



44 OBIGIN OP THE ANGLO-SAXONS LEcr. II. 

believed that the immigration was composed of three different 
tribes, — Jutes, or Jutlanders, Angles, and Saxons, — could be 
overthrown, it would follow that it consisted of Angles alone. 
This is altogether a non seqiiitur ; and it must not be forgotten 
that the only historical proof which establishes the participation 
of a tribe called Angles in the invasions of the fifth and sixth 
centuries at all is precisely the evidence which is adduced to 
show that Saxons accompanied or followed them. It must be 
admitted, indeed, that the extant direct testimony upon the 
whole subject is open to great objections, and that scarcely any 
of the narrative accounts of the Germanic conquest of England 
will stand the test of historical criticism. That the new-comers 
themselves styled portions of the territory they occupied Essex, 
Sussex, Wessex, and Middlesex, — that is, the districts of the 
East Saxons, South Saxons, West Saxons, and Middle Saxons, — 
is undisputed ; and it is a violently improbable supposition, that 
they bestowed on these localities a name mistakenly applied to 
themselves by the natives, instead of calling them by their ovv^n 
proper and familiar national, or at least tribal, appellation. 
They also often spoke of themselves, or of portions of them- 
selves, as Saxons, of their language as the Saxon speech, and 
Alfred's usual royal signature was ^Eex Saxonum,' though, indeed, 
they more generally called the whole people and the language 
Angle, or English. 

Apart from the testimony of the chroniclers — which modern 
inquirers seem generally and with good reason much inclined 
to suspect — the only proof which identifies the Angles of 
England with any Continental people is the perhaps accidental 
coincidence between their name and that of a Germanic, or, as 
some writers maintain, a Scandinavian tribe, occupying a 
corner of Sleswick so narrow in extent as hardly to be noticed 
at all in Continental history. It is equally true that there is 
no external testimony to show that any nation, known to itself 
as Saxon while yet resident on Teutonic soil, furnished any 
contingent to the bodies of invaders. Germanic and Scandi- 



I 



Lect. II. lilNQUISTIC CHAJfGES ^ 45 

navian history are silent on the whole subject*, except in some 
few passages probably borrowed from Anglo-Saxon authorities ; 
and in the want of trustworthy information from native annalists, 
we must have recourse to the internal evidence supplied by the 
language, and to the probabilities deduced from such indirect 
and fragmentary facts as have come down to us, through other 
channels, from the dark and remote period of emigration. 

What then does the character of the language commonly, and, 
as I think, appropriately, called Anglo-Saxon, when examined 
in the earliest forms known to us, indicate with respect to the 
origin of those who spoke it ? 

According to the present views of the ablest linguists, gram- 
matical structure is a much more essential and permanent 
characteristic of languages than the vocabulary, and is therefore 
alone to be considered in tracing their history and determining 
their ethnological affinities. This theory, I think, is carried too 
far, when it is insisted that no amalgamation of the grammatical 
characteristics of different speeches is possible ; for though 
languages often receive and assimilate a great amount of foreign 
material without much change of structure, yet, on the other 
hand, there are cases of the adoption of more or less of foreign 
syntax while the vocabulary remains in a good degree the same, 
and even while the people who employ it continue almost wholly 
unmixed in blood with other nations. The Armenians, for 
example, can boast of a purer and more ancient descent than 
any other Christian people, and they have kept themselves, 
during the v/hole period since their conversion to Christianity 
in the fourth century, almost as distinct in blood and as marked 
in nationality as the Hebrews. Their language is lineally 
descended from the old Armenian tongue, its radicals remaining 
substantially the same, but its grammar is everywhere modified 
by that of the prevailing idiom of the different countries where, 
in the wide dispersion of the Armenian people, it is spoken. 

^' It deserves to be specially noticed that the names of neither Angle nor Saxon 
occur in Beowulf. 



46 MIXTURE OF GRAMMAES Lect. II. 

According to our learned coimtrj^man, Mr. Riggs, the syntax 
of the Armenian spoken in Turkey has conformed itself to the 
structure of the Turkish, and while the ancient Armenian 
Scriptures correspond with the Hebrew text in the logical 
construction of periods and the arrangement of the words that 
compose them, the modern Armenian exactly inverts the order 
of position, and, in accordance with Turkish syntax, places first 
all instrumental, local, and circumstantial qualifications, and 
announces the principal proposition at the end of the sentence. 
Thus, to use the illustration of Mr. Riggs, a Turco-Armenian, 
in saying, ' that a Grreek shot an Egyptian yesterday with a 
pistol, in a drunken quarrel, in one of the streets of the city,' 
instead of arranging the words in the ancient Armenian order, 
which nearly corresponds with the English, would announce 
the proposition in this form; — ^Yesterday — of this city — of 
the streets — one — in — of wine — the use — in originating 
• — of a quarrel — in consequence — with a pistol — a Greek — 
an Egyptian killed.' * 

A linguistic inquirer, who adopts the theory I am discussing, 
might conclude from the study of modern Armenian grammar 
that the people and the language belonged to the Tartar stock ; 
whereas nothing is more certain than that the Armenians and 
their speech are ethnologically unrelated to the Ottoman race and 
the Turldsh tongue. If therefore it v/ere true that the gram- 
matical coincidence between Anglo-Saxon and any given Con- 
tinental dialect were closer than it is, the identity of the two 
would not thereby alone be conclusively proved. In point of 
fact, Anglo-Saxon grammar does not precisely correspond to 
that of any other Grothic speech, but, on the contrary, embraces 
some characteristics of several Grermanic and even Scandinavian 
dialects. 

The Anglo-Saxon, and especially the English language, have 
been affected in both vocabulary and structure by the influence 
of all the Gothic and Romance tongues with v/hich they have 

^ Transactions of the American Oriental Society for 1860. 



Lect. II. MIXTURE OP GRAMMARS 47 

been brought into long and close contact. Doubtless this 
influence is most readily perceived and appreciated in the stock 
of words, but although more obscure and much smaller in actual 
amount of results, it is, I think, not less unequivocal in its effects 
upon the syntax. 

A comparison of the Anglo-Saxon gospels with older monu- 
ments of the language, Beowulf and the poems of Csedmon, for 
instance, on the one hand, and with the Latin text on the other, 
appears to me to show very clearly that the syntax of the transla- 
tion, and, through the influence of that transVttion, of the general 
Anglo-Saxon speech, was sensibly affected by the incorporation 
of Latin constructions previously unknovv^n to it. I cannot 
here go into this question at length, but I may refer to a single 
exemplification of this influence in the employment of the 
active or present participle, in both absolute and dependent 
phrases, in close accordance with the Latin usage.* 

The Anglo-Saxon compared the adjective by change of ending 
only, or inflection, and not by the adverbs more and most; 
the Norman-French, by the help of adverbs. The English 
employs both methods, the latter almost uniformly in long 
words. The possessive relation betv\^een nouns was expressed 
in Anglo-Saxon by a regular possessive or genitive case, and 
not by a preposition ; in Norman-Freuch, in general, by a prepo- 
sition only. In English both modes are used. The Anglo-Saxon 
did not employ a preposition before the infinitive, but had a 
special verbal form nearly analogous to the Latin gerund, which 
is by some considered as a dative case of the infinitive ; the Nor- 
man-French infinitive, in many cases, took a preposition. The 
English first dropped the characteristic ending of the gerundial, 
thus reducing it to the infinitive form, and then regularly preceded 
the infinitive, except when coupled with an auxiliary verb, by 
a preposition ; thus • amalgamating, or rather confounding, the 
offices of the two forms. f 

* See Illustration II. at the end of this lecture. 
f See Illustration IIL at the end of this lecture. 



I 



^8 ANGLO-SAXON LANGUAGE Lbct, II. 

Now these and other analogous cases are instances of the sub- 
stitution of foreign grammatical combinations for native inflec- 
tions, or, in other words, of a mixture of grammars 'pro tanto. 
They are, indeed, not numerous or important enough to affect 
the general character of English syntax, which is in very large 
measure derived from that of the Anglo-Saxon ; but they are 
sufficient to prove that the doctrine of the impossibility of any 
grammatical mixture is a too hasty generalisation ; and hence 
the extent of syntactical amalgamation is simply a question of 
proportion. 

The Anglo-Saxon is not grammatically or lexically identi- 
fiable with the extant remains of any Continental dialect ; but, so 
far as it is to be considered a homogeneous tongue, it much re- 
sembles what is called the Old-Saxon of the Heliand (a religious 
poem of the ninth century), and the Frisic, l)oth of which belong 
to the Low-Grerman or Saxon branch of the Teutonic ; and hence 
we are authorised to presume, that the bulk of the invaders 
emigrated from some territory not remote from the coast of the 
North Sea, where the population employed a Low-Grerman dia- 
lect or dialects. The composite and heterogeneous character of 
the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary, or, in other words, the internal 
evidence derived from the language itself, tends to the same con- 
clusions, in respect to the origin of the tongue and the people, 
to which we should be led by the little we know of the history 
of maritime Grermany and the Netherlands during the period 
succeeding the Eoman occupation of a part of that territory. It 
is evidently a mixed speech ; and we can, in many instances, 
trace its different ingredients to sources not having much imme- 
diate relation to each other. 

The martial triumphs and extended despotism of Rome dis- 
lodged and expelled from their native seats great numbers, if 
not whole tribes, of a people who, at that period, were just in 
the state of semi-civilization which Thucydides describes as that 
of the early Greeks, — a state which offers no obstacle to emi- 
gration, but facilitates it, because it has no permanent and well- 



Lect. II. EFFECTS OF ROSIAN CONQUEST 49 

secured homes, no strong local attachments^ and at the same 
time is far enough advanced in pastoral and mechanical art, to 
be provided with the means of locomotion and of the transporta- 
tion of such objects as man in that condition of life most highly 
prizes. 

The line of march of the fugitives who retreated before the 
Roman legions, would be to the north-west ; both because the 
Ehine, the Elbe, and their tributary streams, on which many of 
them would embark, flow in that direction, and because the dif- 
ficult nature of the country lying between the outlets of the 
great northern rivers opposed the most formidable obstacles to 
the advance of a pursuing force ; and, while it offered ample 
means of subsistence in the abundance of the sea., yet held out 
few attractions of a character to tempt the cupidity of the Eoman 
robber. Hence, independently of other more or less similar, 
earlier or contemporaneous, concurrent causes, it is extremely 
probable that, in consequence of the progress of the Eoman 
arms about the commencement of the Christian era, and during 
the immediately preceding and succeeding centuries, a multi- 
tude of tribes, and fragments of tribes, languages, and frag- 
ments of languages, were distributed along the coasts of the 
German Ocean, and the navigable waters which discharge them- 
selves into it. 

The jealousies of family and of class, which are such a con- 
spicuous feature in the character of all rude races, would long 
prevent the coalescence jof distinct bodies of these people, or the 
fusion of their unwritten dialects ; and these, indeed, by the iso- 
lation of those who spoke them, would tend to diverge rather 
than assimilate, until some one group or confederacy of tribes 
should become strong enough to conquer or absorb the rest. 
Vfe have no historical evidence VN^hatever, of any politicalor lin- 
guistic unity between the inhabitants of difi*erent portions of the 
coast ; and no legitimate deduction from the known habits and 
tendencies of half-savage life would lead to such conclusion. 

At this period, the low lands, subject to overflow hy the Geiv 



60 COASTS OF GERMAN OCEAN Lect. IL 

man Ocean and by the great rivers which empty into it, were 
not diked ; but, as appears from Pliny*, the few inhabitants of 
the tide-washed flats lived in huts erected on artificial mounds, 
as upon the coast-islands they do at this day. The art of diking 
seems to have been suggested by the causewaj^s and the mili- 
tary engineering of the Komans. But the labour and expense 
involved in it were so great, that it made very slow progress ; 
and no considerable extent of this coast was diked in until lonof 
after the Saxon conquest of England. Upon the firm land were 
vast woods and morasses, which prevented free communication 
between the population, and it was consequently separated into 
independent bodies, united by no tie of common interest. 

Wherever man, in the state of life in which the concurrent 
testimony of all history places the Northern Grermans at the 
period of which we speak, is accessible to observation, he is 
found divided into small and hostile clans, distinguished by con- 
siderable, and constantl}'- widening, differences of dialect, and 
incapable of harmonious or extended political or social action. 
The traditional accounts of the Saxon conquest of England 
speak of numerous successive and totally distinct bodies of in- 
vaders ; and the probability that any one tribe, or any one con- 
tinuous territorial district, even if all its clans were united under 
one head, could have furnished a sufficient force to subdue the 
island in any one or any ten successive expeditions, is too slen- 
der to be admitted for a moment. 

The people who inhabit the coasts of the North Sea have now 
been Christianised for a thousand years, and brought under the 
sway of two or three governments. During all these ten cen- 
turies, all religious and all political influences have powerfully 
tended to the extirpation of local differences of speech, and to 
the reduction of the multiplied patois, if not to one, to two or 
three leading dialects. Yet, though all known external causes 
of discrepancy have long since ceased to act, we find that, in 
spite of the harmonising influences to which I have alluded, 

* Nat. Hist. xvi. 1. 



Lect. II. MULTITUDE OF DIALECTS 51 

every hour of travel, as we advance from the Ehine to the Eider, 
brings us to a new vernacular. Within the space of three hun- 
dred miles, we meet with at least a dozen, mostly unwritten, 
dialects, not only so discrepant as to be mutually unintelligible 
to those who ,speak them, but often marked by lexical and gram- 
matical differences scarcely less wide than those which distin- 
guish any two Grothic or any two Eomance tongues.* There is 
not a shadow of proof, there is no semblance of probability, that 
the inhabitants of these coasts spoke with more uniformity four- 
teen centuries ago than to-day, but every presumption is to the 
contrary. 

Jacob Grimm, indeed, observes that all dialects and patois 
develope themselves progressively, and the further we look back 
in language, the smaller is their number and the less marked 
are they.f This is in accordance with all linguistic theory, and 
if human annals reached far enough back to exhibit to us earlier 
stages of divergence of speech, the proposition would probably 
be found historically true ; but if we take the different linguistic 
families of Europe, and follow them up as far as documentary 
evidence can be traced, the reverse appears, in ver}^ many cases, 
to be the fact. The dialects diverge as we ascend. If we com- 
pare any one of the Low-Grerman dialects of the present day 

'^ See Ilalbertsma's very remarkable account of the confusion and instability of 
speecb in the Frisian provinces of Holland, in Bosworth's Origin of the Germanic 
and Scandinavian languages, pp. 36-38. See also First Series, Lectures II., p. 43, 
and XVIII., p. 378. And yet the multitude of dialects was greater within the 
memory of persons now living than it is at present. 

t ' Alle Mundarten imd Dialecte entfalten sich vorschreitend, und je weiter man in 
der Sprache zuriiclcschaut, desto geringer ist ihre Zahl, desto schwacher ausgepragt 
sind sie, Ohne diese Annahme wiirde iiberhaupt der Ursprung der Dialecte, wie 
der Vielheit der Sprachen unbegreiflich sein,' 

Although the learned author declares that this proposition is * aus der Geschichte 
der Sprache geschopft und in der Natur ihrer Spaltung gegriindet,' it must never- 
theless be considered rather as a corollary from the doctrine of the descent of the 
human family from a single stock, than as a statement of historically established 
fivct. T]ie proofs, or rather illustrations, adduced by Grimm amount to very little, 
and the conclusion is drawn not from evidence, but from assumptions founded on 
the supposed impossibility of otherwise explaining the origin of dialects and the 
multiplicity of languages. 



52 SCANDINAVIAN DIALECTS Lect. II. 

with the contemporaneous High German, we shall find a marked 
difference indeed, which, if the former now had a living litera- 
ture and were spoken by a people governed by a distinct politi- 
cal organisation, would perhaps be held sufficient to entitle 
them to be considered as different languages. But between the 
poem Heliand and the Krist of Otfrid — both of the ninth 
century and therefore nearly contemporaneous — the former 
being taken as the representative of the Low, the latter as that of 
the High Grerman, there is a much more palpable difference than 
exists at the present day, or at any intermediate period, between 
the dialects which stand in the place of them. If we 'extend 
the comparison so as to embrace the Moeso-Grothic, which 
Grimm* declares to have become wholly extinct and to have 
left no surviving posterit}^, we find a greater diversity still. f 
Over how large a space either of these three Germanic speeches 
prevailed, we do not know ; nor have we any warrant whatever 
for affirming, any probable ground for presuming, that there did 
not exist, by the side of these, numerous other dialects as unlike 
either of them as they are to each other. 

In the case of the Scandinavian languages, the Swedish, 
Danish, and modern Icelandic, indeed, the facts are said to be 
different. It is affirmed that, at a period not very remote, a 
tongue substantially the same as what is now called Icelandic 
was spoken in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, and that the pre- 
sent languages of those three countries are lineally descended 
from the primitive Old-Northern speech.J Admitting this to be 
so, a reason why we are able to trace the Scandinavian dialects 
historically to a common original might be found in the fact, 
that the migration of the Scandinavians into their present seats, 
the multiplication of their numbers, their consequent spread 
over a wide surface, and their separation and division into dis- 

* ' Die gotische ist ganz, ohne dasz etwas neuores an ihre stelle getreteu ware, 
erloschen.' 
t See Illustrations IV. and V. at the end of this lecture. 
j See Illustration VI. at the end of this lectoi-e. 



Lect. li. ROMANCE LANGIJAGES 53 

tinct tribes v/ith divergent speeches — all these events are very 
much more recent than the occupation of Grermany by the an- 
cestors of its present population, and the division of that popu- 
lation, if indeed ever homogeneous, into separate tribes. 

The comparatively late date of the Grothic colonisation of 
Scandinavia is proved by a variety of circumstances which can- 
not now be detailed, but it is well to refer to one of them — 
the fact, uamety, that the older race whom the Scandinavian 
Groths expelled from Norway, Sweden, and perhaps Denmark — 
the Laplanders, or, as the Old-Northern writers call them, the 
Finns — is not yet extirpated, but still exists as a distinct 
people, with its original speech ; whereas nearly every trace of a 
more ancient population of Grermany has utterly disappeared. 

We have no similar evidence with respect to the unity, or 
even close relationship, of the Grermanic peoples and their dia- 
lects within any calculable period. It is not proved that any 
modern High-Grerman or Low-German speech is derived from 
the Moeso-Grothic of Ulfilas, or from the dialect of Otfrid, or of 
the Heliand; and it is just as probable that all the Grermanic 
patois are descended from parallel old dialects, the memory of 
which is lost because their written monuments have perished, if 
any such ever existed. 

If we do not find a similar state of things in the Romance 
languages, it is because they are all dii-ectly derived, not indeed 
from the classical Latin, but from cognate unwritten dialects 
which group themselves around the Latin as their common re- 
presentative and only mouthpiece. Hence their tendencies to a 
wider divergence were always checked by the influence of a 
central, written, authoritative, ever-living and immutable speech, 
no parallel to which, so far as we have any reason to believe, 
existed in Grermany. 

As a general rule, then, applicable to Vv^hat is called the his- 
torical period, or that through which written records extend, 
dialects have usually tended to uniformity and amalgsimation as 
they descend the stream of time ; and as we trace them back- 



54 



ANGLO-SAXON LANGUAGE Lect. II. 



wards, they ramify like rivers and their tributaries, until the 
main current is lost in a dispersion as distracting as the con- 
fusion of Babel.* 

From all this it follows that we have no reason to suppose 
that the conquerors of England were a people of one name or of 
one speech, but on the contrary there is every probability that 
they were, though ethnologically and linguistically nearly or 
remotely allied, yet practically, and as they viewed themselves, 
composed of fragments of peoples m.ore or less alien to each 
other in blood and in tongue. 

They were Christianized not far from the close of the sixth 
century, and from this epoch all influences tended to amalga- 
mation and community of speech. We have monuments of the 
language which date very soon after this period, but, as they 
are extant only in copies executed in later centuries, we know 
not their primitive orthography, nor have we any actual know- 
ledge of the forms or grammatical character of the language 
earlier than the eighth or ninth century, because we possess no 
manuscripts of greater antiquity.f 

Whatever, then, may have been the original discrepancies of 
the speech, they had been, at our earliest acquaintance with it, 
in some degree at least, harmonised. Still we cannot say tha,t 
Anglo- Saxon, even at that period, presents the characteristics of 
a homogeneous, self-developed tongue. Its inflections, as exhi- 

* See Illustration VII. at the end of tliis lecture. 

t The deterinmation of the age of Anglo-Saxon manuscripts from intenaal evi- 
dence is a matter of much difficulty and uncertainty, because there are few such 
•writings of known date, by which the antiquity of undated copies can bo tested. 
An expression of Alfred, in the preface to his translation of Boethius, would tend 
to show that Anglo-Saxon was hardly a commonly written language until he made 
it so; for in the phrase, 'of bec-ledene on Englisc wende,' bee ledene 
means not so properly Latin, as simply the book-language, the written tongue — a 
term not likely to be used if Anglo-Saxon books were then common. This con- 
sideration may be thought to furnish another argument against the authenticity of 
Asser, who puts a manuscript of Anglo-Saxon poetry with illuminated capitals 
into Alfred's hands when he could have been but four years old. It would, how- 
ever, be going quite too far to deny that the Anglo-Saxon had been written at all 
until 80 late a period as the birth of Alfred. 



Lect. n. . ANGLO-SAXON MIXED 55 

bited in the works of different writers, and in different manu- 
scripts of the same writer, vary to an extent that indicates a 
great diversity of orthography, if not of actual declension and 
conjugation. Its syntax is irregular and discrepant ; and though 
both its grammar and its vocabulary connect it most nearly with 
the Low, or Platt-Deutsch branch of the Grerman, yet it has 
grammatical forms, as well as verbal combinations and vocables, 
which indicate now a relationship to High-Grerman, and now to 
Scandinavian, not to speak of Celtic roots which it may have 
borrowed from the Britons, or may have received, at an earlier 
date, from the ancient fountain of Indo-European speech whence 
the Celtic and Gothic, as well as the Eomance and Hellenic, 
languages of Europe are theoretically considered to have flowed. 
In short, the Anglo-Saxon was much such a language as it 
might be supposed would result from a fusion of the Old-Saxon 
with smaller proportions of High-Grerman, Scandinavian, and 
even Celtic and Sclavonic elements ; and it bears nearly the 
same relation to those ingredients as modern English bears to 
its own constituents, though, indeed, no single influence was 
exerted upon it so disturbing in character as the Norman-French 
has proved to our present tongue. 

We find, then, neither in historical record, nor in the structure 
of the Anglo-Saxon speech, any sufiicient evidence of the con- 
trolling predominance of any one tribe, or any one now identi- 
fiable dialect, in the Saxon colonisation of England; and we 
may fairly suppose that both are derived, in proportions no 
longer ascertainable, from all the races and tongues which were 
found between the Ehine and the Eider, with contributions from 
the Scandinavian and Sclavonic tribes of the Atlantic and Baltic 
shores, and from other even more remote sources which have 
left no traces sufficiently distinct for recognition. 

Although we are unable to say when the revolution took 
place, or by precisely what succession of steps the common 
speech of England advanced from the simple accents of the 
Saxon poet Caedmon to the •ornate culture of Chaucer, it is not 



66 ANaLO-SAXON NOT ENGLISH I<ECT. II. 

the less certain that a change has occurred, which has separated 
the dialect that embodies the modern literature of England, from 
the Anglo-Saxon tongue, by an interval wider than the space 
which divides the language of modern Tuscany from that of 
ancient Eome. 

There is little force in the argument, that we ought to call 
the language of King Alfred English because his contemporaries 
usually so styled it. That appellation has been irrevocably 
transferred to the present speech of England, and has become 
its exclusive right. To designate by one term things logically 
distinct is to purchase simplicity of nomenclature at the expense 
of precision of thought ; and there is no linguistic test by which 
the identity of Anglo-Saxon and modern English can be esta- 
blished. Words, whether spoken or written, whether addressed 
to the ear or to the eye, are formed and grouped into periods 
as a means of communication between man and man. When- 
ever a given set of words and of syntactical forms becomes 
constant, and is generally accepted by a people or a tribe, the 
assemblage of them constitutes a language ; but when the voca- 
bulary and the inflections of a particular speech have been so 
changed, either by the decay of native and the substitution of 
foreign roots, or by grammatical corruptions or improvements, 
that the old and the new dialects would no longer be mutually 
intelligible, in either their spoken or their written forms, to 
those trained to use them, it is then an abuse of words to give 
to them a common appellation. To call by the same name a 
language like the Anglo-Saxon — whose vocabulary is mainly 
derived from the single Grothic stock, and whose syntax is regu- 
lated by inflection — and a language like the English — more 
than one half of whose words are borrowed from Eomance, or 
other remotely related sources, and whose syntax depends upon 
auxiliaries, particles, and position — would lead to a mischievous 
confusion of ideas, and an entire misconception of our true 
philological position and relations.* 

* The eminent German echolax Pauli, in his Life of AKred, p. 128, speaks of 



Iect. IL latin and ITALIAN 67 

A modern Italian guide, in conducting the traveller over an 
ancient field of battle, and pointing out the positions of the 
hostile forces — old Eomans and their Gallic, Epirotic or Car- 
thaginian enemies — will speak of the Eomans as i nostrali, our 
troops; yet no man insists on giving a common name to the 
Latin and Italian, or Latin and Spanish, or Latin and Portuguese, 
though either of these living languages is much more closely 
allied to the speech of ancient Eome, than is modern English to 
Ansflo-Saxon. It is true we can frame sentences, and even write 
pages upon many topics without employing words of Eomance 
or other foreign origin ; but none would think it possible to com- 
pose an epic, a tragedy, a metaphysical or a critical discussion 
wholly in Anglo-Saxon. On the other hand, entire volumes 
may be written in either of the three Southern Eomance lan- 
guages on almost any subject, except modern mechanical and 
scientific pursuits and achievements, with as close a conformity 
to the Latin syntax as English construction exhibits to Anglo- 
Saxon, and at the same time, without employing any but Latin 
roots, and that in so natural and easy a style that the omission 
of borrowed words would never be noticed by the reader. 

We do not jet know enough of the nature of language to be 
able to affirm that the vocabulary of a given tongue has absolutely 
no influence upon or connection with its grammatical structure. 
There are facts which seem to indicate the contrary; and when 
we find, in Early English, inflectional and syntactical features 
foreign to the genius of the Anglo-Saxon, but which liad long 
before existed in the Latin or in its Eomance descendants most 
favourably situated to exercise upon the speech of England the 
strongest influence that one language can exert upon another, 
it seems quite unphilosophical to say that these new character- 
istics were spontaneously developed, and not borrowed from those 

the Aiiglo-Saxon * reticle of the laws ' as ' tlie German language,' which he may 
certainly do with as great propriety as others call the Anglo-Saxon, English. If 
the language of Alfred was at once German and English, we must admit that it is ^ 
not a misnomer to style the dialect of Sliakspearo, Platt-Deutsch. 



68 ENGLISH AND NORMAN-FEENCH Lect. IL 

older or more advanced tongues which were then the sole 
mediums of literary culture for Englishmen. 

The pride of nationality, if it has not prompted the views I 
am criticising, has at least promoted their acceptance, and they 
seem to me destitute of any more solid foundation. The French- 
man might, with little less show of reason, maintain that French is 
identical with the ancient Grallic, or with Latin, or with Francic, 
according as he inclines to Celtic, or Eomance, or Grothic par- 
tialities, and might argue that the present language of France 
derives its grammatical character wholly from one of them, 
without having been at all affected by the inflections or the 
syntax of the others. The difference in the extent to which the 
tongues of England and of France have been affected by extra- 
neous influences is wholly a question of degree, not of kind. 
French, indeed, in the opinion of some linguists, is more 
emphatically composite than English.* Still its material is 
chiefly Latin, though it may be impossible to say how far it is 
based upon classical Latin, and how far upon one or more of the 
unwritten popular dialects usually spoJien of collectively as the 
lingua rustica; but there is no reasonable doubt, that both 
English and French are, and in all ages have been, as suscep- 
tible of modification by external influences, as the opinions, the 
characters, the modes of life of those who have spoken them, or 
as any other manifestation of the intellectual activity of man. 

It is true that the tendencies of all modern languages known 
in literature are in one and the same direction, namely, to 
simplification of structure, by rejection of inflections; but this 
is precisely the tendency that would be impressed upon them by 
the common causes, which, in modern times, have operated alike, 
though in different degrees of intensity, upon every people whose 
history is known to us. f 

* In the number of syntactical irregularities, of conventional phrases, of ano- 

.malous facts which are not so much exceptions to particular rules as departures 

from all rule, French exceeds every other European language. Does not this fact 

^ furnish some evidence of the very heterogeneous character of the elements which 

compose tlie present speech of France ? 

t See First Series, Lecture XVII., p. 367. 



LeCT. II. ANGLO-SAXON LANGUAGE 59 

I cannot assume my audience to be familiar witli the lexical 
or grammatical peculiarities of the Anglo-Saxon tongue, and 
therefore, inasmuch as some acquaintance with the vocabulary 
and the syntactical structure of that language is necessary to the 
clear understanding of the early history of English, I hope I 
shall be pardoned for something, both of general discussion and 
of dry detail on these subjects. 

The inflectional system of languages is in some respects their 
least important feature, for it is, in the present condition of 
most tongues known in literature, their most mechanical and 
least expressive characteristic. We will, therefore, first inquire 
into what is of greater interest : the nature and extent of the 
stock of words which compose the raw material of the Anglo- 
Saxon vocabulary. 

Independ-ently of the evidence afforded by its grammatical 
structure, a comparison of its root-forms with those of Continen- 
tal and Oriental vocabularies shows, that the Anglo-Saxon be- 
longs to what has been called the Indo-Grermanic, but is now 
more generally styled the Indo-European family, and of which 
the Sanscrit is regarded as at once the oldest and most perfect 
type. In its more immediate relations to the modern languages 
of Western Europe, the Anglo-Saxon, as I have more than once 
remarked, is classed with the Low-Grerman branch of the Teu- 
tonic, and has, therefore, a close lexical affinity, not only with 
the many dialects known by the common appellation of Platt- 
Deutsch, but also with those grouped under the denomination of 
Frisic, and with the Netherlandish, or, as it is commonly called, 
the Dutch or Flemish. 

Its vocabulary contains also a considerable number of words 
not met with in Continental High or Low Grerman, but which 
are found in Celtic dialects. The Celtic contribution to the 
vocabulary, or, at least, that portion of it introduced by actual 
contact with British Celts after the Conquest, does not appear to 
have at ail modified the syntax or otherwise affected the struc- 
ture, or, so far as w^e have reason to believe, the articulation of 
the language. Hence it must be considered as having never 



60 LATIN WOUDS in ANGLO-SAXON Lect. II. 

entered into any organic combination with it, or become one of 
its elementary constituents ; but as having remained a foreign 
unassimilated accretion. Indeed, there seems to have always 
existed, during the whole historical period, a reciprocal repul- 
sion between the Celts and all other European families, and 
their respective tongues, which have intermixed in a less degree 
than is usual between contiguous dialects. This feeling of an- 
tagonism was particularly strong with the Anglo-Saxons and their 
immediate descendants, and it finds very frequent expression in 
every age of English history.* Upon the whole, though the 
speech of continental Germany may, in remote ages, have been 
affected to an unknov/n extent by now extinct Celtic dialects, 
there is no reason to believe that the development and history 
of insular Anglo-Saxon and English have been sensibly modi- 
fied by any such influences. 

There is a class of words, small indeed, but not unimportant, 
which are thought to have been introduced into Britain by the 
ancient Romans, and to have been retained by the Celtic inhabi- 
tants — or possibly by some early colonists, of Grothic blood, 
already established in Britain at the time of the Roman conquest 
— and which passed into the Anglo-Saxon dialect, if not before 
the conversion of that people to Christianity, at least very soon 
after. One of these is cester, or coaster, now a common 
ending of the names of English towns, which is the Latin 
castrum, a fortified camp or garrison; another is the syllable 
coin, in the name of the town of Lincoln, which is the Latin 
colonia, colony. Still another, probably, is cese, or cyse, 
cheese, from the Latin case us, for we have reason to believe, 
that in this case both the thing and the name were made know^n 
to the Britons by the Romans.f Street, also, may be the Latin 
stratum, a paved way, and still more probably may the Saxon 
munt, a mountain, have been taken from the Latin mons. It 

* See Illustration VIII. at the end of this lecture. 

t See a note on the word cheese in the American edition of Wedgwood's E^- 
mological Dictionary. 

See also Illustration IX. at the end of this lecture. 



Lect. II. GREEK WORDS IN ANGLO-SAXON 61 

would indeed seem that no human speech could be so poor in 
words descriptive of natural scenery as to need to borrow a name 
for mountaiD, but there are no mountains on or near the conti- 
nental shores of the Grerman Ocean, and hence the inhabitants 
of those coasts may have had no name for them. 

But the great majority of Latin words adopted by the Saxons 
were, no doubt, derived from Christian missionaries, who at once 
established the Latin as the official language of the Church, and, 
to some extent, as the medium of general religious, moral, and 
intellectual instruction. 

The best Anglo-Saxon writers were purists in style, and re- 
luctantly admitted Latin words into their vocabulary. Hence 
the number of such in the Anglo-Saxon Grospels, the works of 
Alfric and of Alfred, and, indeed, in all the native literature of 
England, so long as Anglo-Saxon continued to be a written 
language, is very small.* This fact seems to authorise the infer- 
ence which other evidence abundantly confirms, that the large 
introduction of Latin words into every department of the En- 
glish speech, soon after it became recognisable as a new dialect, 
was due more to secular JSTorman-French than to Eomish eccle- 
siastical influence, though the form of the words of Latin ety- 
mology often leaves it very doubtful from which of the two lan- 
guages they were immediately borrowed. 

Besides the roots derived from these various sources, there are 
in Anglo-Saxon a small number of words, such for example as 
circ, circe, ciric, cyric, or cyricea, church, which are sup- 
posed by some to have been taken directly from the Grreek ; and 
there are also a few which etymologists have referred to Sclavonic 
roots ; but these, though interesting in ethnological inquiry, are 
not sufficiently numerous to have perceptibly aifected the cha- 
racter of the speech, and they are, therefore, philoJogically un- 
important. 

There occur in Anglo-Saxon writers, as might naturally be 
expected from the territorial proximity of the Grermanic and 

* See First Series, Lecture X., p. 199. 



62 VOCABULABY OF ANGLO-SAXON Lect. II. 

Scandinavian tribes, many words belonging to the Old-Northern 
tongue*, and a considerable number whose etymology is totally 
imcertain, but the vocabulary is in very large proportion 
Grermanic, while its composite character is further shown by 
the fact that a greater number of Teutonic patois fiad their 
analogons, or representatives, in it than in any other one of the 
cognate dialects. 

Thus much for the proximate sources of Anglo-Saxon, for 
the immediate genealogy of its vocabulary; but what is the 
essential character of the words which compose it? The 
articulation, the mere sound of the words, is a matter of little 
importance in the view I am now taking of the subject, but 
were it of greater moment and interest, it would be altogether 
impracticable to present a satisfactory view of it. We know 
Anglo-Saxon only as it is written, and no ancient grammarian 
or lexicographer has recorded for us the figured pronunciation 
of its vocabulary. That it varied much in different provinces 
and centuries we may readily believe, and very probably many 
of the local peculiarities of utterance are faithfully represented 
in the present provincial patois of different English shires. 
The Norman influence, however, must have produced a very 

^- See First Series, Lecture XXII., p. 471. I attacli much importance to the 
remarkable coincidence "between the pronunciation of the languages of the Scan- 
dinavian countries and of England, as an evidence that the former had upon the 
latter an influence powerful enough both to introduce into it some new phonological 
elements, and to preserve others probably once common to all the Gothic tongues, 
but which have now disappeared from the articulation of the Teutonic dialects. I 
ascribe the loss of these sounds in those languages in some measm'e to the influ- 
ence of classical Latin and the Komance dialects, just as the later suppression of 
the th in Swedish and its partial disappearance in Danish may be thought more 
immediately due to the influence of German, The lost sounds in German are 
wanting in Latin and generally in its modern representatives, and it is a strong 
proof of the tenacious hold of Anglo-Saxon upon the English organs of speech, 
that it held fast its ]> and c5 and ?iiv in spite both of Romish ecclesiasticism and 
Norman conquest. The Scandinavian element in English orthoepy may fairly be 
appealed to as a confirmation of the statement of the chroniclers that the J.utes par- 
ticipated largely in the original Gothic immigrations ; for even if the Jutes were 
not of Old-Northern blood, they had, from close proximity to that race, very pro- 
bably adopted some of its linguistic peculiarities. 



Lect. II. PHONOLOGICAL INQUIRIES 63 

great derangement of the native orthoepy, if not a total revolu- 
tion in it ; and if we can rely on Mulcaster, and Gill, and other 
English orthoepists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, 
there have been important changes in the standard pronuncia- 
tion of English within the last two or three hundred years.* 

Inquiries into ancient modes of articulation are extremely 
difficult, and doubtful in result, not only from the uncertainty 
which must always exist, first as to the extent to which any 
particular system of orthography was regularly phonographic, 
and secondly, as to the normal force of single letters, the 
standard sound of which is only traditionally known ; and 
besides this, we are embarrassed by the confusion that attends 
all phonological discussion in consequence of the different 
appreciation of familiar sounds by different persons who hear 
and use them. We wrangle about the identity or diversity of 
vowels, and even of consonantal sounds in our own vernacular, 
which we have heard and employed every day of our lives ; and 
pronunciation itself is so fluctuating that we cannot rely upon the 
traditional articulation, even of those sounds w^hich seem most 
constant, as sufficient evidence of the ancient utterance of them.^ 

There is something surprising in the boldness with which 
philologists pronounce on the orthoepy of dialects which have 
been dead for a thousand years, or which are known to them 

* See First Series, Lectm-e XXII, 

t See, on the uncertainty of the prontineiation of English in the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries, First Series, Lecture XXII. In that Lecture, p. 484, I 
treat oe as representing the long or oiaine sound of o, in Churchyard's system. 
Doubtless it does, but upon farther examination I am not clear what Churchyard 
considered the elementary character of the To^yel to be, and I am doubtful whether 
his long or name sound was like that of our modern o, or like oo in boot. In his 
letter to Sir W. Cecil, (Chips concerning Scotland, reprint, 1817, pp. 66 — 69,) he 
writes hoeld, mocst, hoep, hocll {whole), hoeth, Jcnoe {know), moer, in all which words 
we give the vowel the long a sound ; but he spells also tocJc, whoes, trocth {truth), 
which we pronounce with the oo sound, and oen {one) and blocd, where modern 
English employs the short u sound. Several of Churchyard's contemporaries 
write with oo words which we spell and pronounce with long o. And as B. Jonson 
ascribes the sound of French on to o in many words where at present short u is 
heard, it seems almost impossible to determine what the normal articulation of 
this vowel waa. 



64 AN^LO-SAXON OUTHOaRAPHT Lect. IL 

only by written notation.* It would be very extravagant to 
say that the most learned phonologist has any means of ascer- 
taining the true articulation of Anglo-Saxon, or of any form of 
old Grerman, that, in any considerable degree, approach to the 
facilities w^e at present possess of learning any contemporanec us 
foreign pronunciation, French for example, by the help of 
figured spelling. But what approximation could an EnglishmLJi, 
who had never heard French spoken, make to the exact utter- 
ance of the nasals or of the vowel and diphtliong u and eu, or 
how near would a Frenchman come to the two sounds of our 
ih^ by the study of written treatises alone ? In these cases, 
indeed, we may very often convey the true pronunciation of a 
foreign vowel or consonant by comparison with the same, or a 
very closely analogous, sound in a language already known to 
the student ; but in our inquiries into extinct phonologies we 
have no such guide, and our conclusions, though sometimes 
made very plausible, are nevertheless extremely uncertain.! 

The orthography of a very large proportion of indigenous 
English words has undergone successive revolutions, which it is 
not easy to explain upon any supposition but that of somewhat 
corresponding changes in articulation ; although it must be 
admitted that, if we suppose the individual letters to have had, 
in general, the same force as in our modern system, the Anglo- 
Saxon spelling of many words more truly represents the pro- 
nunciation of to-day than our present orthography. 

Take, for example, that peculiar English sound, or rather 
combination of simple sounds, which we represent by ew, as in 

* Halbertsma speaks positively as to the essential eliaracter of Anglo-Saxon vowel 
Bounds, and yet admits that the very people who tised them were so doubtful as 
to the true articulation, and so variable in their pronunciation, of them, that they 
did not know how to express them in alphabetic characters. * Unable to satisfy 
himself, he [the writer] often interchanged kindred vowels in the same words, at 
one time putting a or co, and afterwards oe and y.' And in the next paragraph he 
adds : ' While the writer is groping about him for proper letters, we guess the 
sound he wished to express by assuming some middle sound between the letters he 
employs.' — Halbertsma in Bosworih, Ger. ^ Scand. Lang. p. 87. 
t See Illustration X. at the end of this lecture. 



Lect. II. ANGLO-SAXON ORTHOGKAPHY 05 

716^5 and, in other cases, by the vowel u, as in tube. Now an 
attentive analysis of this sound will show that, without regard 
to the semi-consonantal y, which is introduced immediately after 
the consonant preceding the u, it is composed of two articula- 
tions so rapidly pronounced as almost to coalesce into one. So 
near as this coalescence of sounds is capable of resolution, the 
first is the short sound of i in pin, the second is the semi- 
consonantal It;. This class of syllables the Anglo-Saxon, and 
to some extent early English writers, spelt with hu instead of 
ew or u. Thus hue, complexion, clew or clue, new, brew, in 
Anglo-Saxon are spelt respectively, hiw, cliwe, niwe, briw. 
So the word rule — which it is doubtful whether we are to 
consider of native or foreign extraction — in the Ancren Kiwle, 
a code of early English monastic precepts, is written riiule* In 
these cases the Anglo-Saxon and Old English spelling appears 
to be more truly phonographic than the modern. 

If we assume that there is a general resemblance between 
the Anglo-Saxon and the modern English pronunciation of the 
words which are spelt substantially alike in both, we are driven 
to the conclusion that the former must have differed very re- 
markably in articulation from the contemporaneous Grermanic 
dialects ; and this would be a strong argument in favour of the 
position that it was widely distinct from any of them. If, on 
the contrary, we suppose that Anglo-Saxon resembled any 
Continental language of its own era in sound, we must conclude 
that our English pronunciation of Saxon words has been changed 
to a degree very difficult to account for.f It has been suggested 
that many important points of difference between Anglo-Saxon 
and English pronunciation on the one hand, and German and 

•"' At present, n preceded by r, J, or I, in tlie same syllable is, according to most 
ortlioepists, pronounced oo, so that rule rhymes with pool. This pronunciation has 
arisen from the difficulty of articulating the semi-consonantal -7/ between the r, J, 
or I and the w ; but the orthography riwle, and other like evidence, show that this 
was not the ancient orthoepy, uor is it now by any means universal among good 
Bpeakers. 

t See First Series, Lecture XXII., p. 471. 



66 PRONUNCIATION OP ENGLISH Lect. II. 

Scandinavian on the other, are due to the Celtic element in the 
former ; but it is incredible that a language, which has added 
little to the vocabulary, and in no appreciable degree modified 
the syntax of either, should have produced any sensible effect 
upon the pronunciation; and besides, it does not appear that 
there is any such resemblance between the articulation of 
the Celtic and the neighbouring Saxon and English dialects, 
that one can be reasonably supposed to have influenced the 
other. 

There is, indeed, one way in which English, though hardly 
Saxon, orthoepy has probably been modified by comparatively 
modern Celtic influences. French philologists maintain that 
the pronunciation of the Latin, in becoming the speech of the 
French people, must have accommodated itself to the organs 
and habitual utterance of a nation which if not strictly Celtic, 
had certainly a large infusion of Celtic blood. The modifica- 
tions thus introduced constituted a permanent and normal part of 
old French articulation, and have consequently, so far as French 
influence is perceptible at all in English pronunciation, given a 
special character to that influence. 

There are several points in which national pronunciation may 
be affected by foreign influence. The essential character of 
vowels or consonants may be changed, or the temporal quantity 
of the former lengthened or shortened ; sounds long established 
may be dropped altogether, or new ones introduced ; the accen- 
tuation of words or classes of words may be deranged, or finally 
the predominant periodic accent or emphasis may be shifted. 

This last revolution is usually connected w^ith a change of 
syntactical arrangement, and a familiar illustration will show 
how the Anglo-Saxon periodic accent may have taken, and in 
jnany cases doubtless did take, a new position in passing into 
English. In short, direct propositions, if there be no motive 
for making another word specially prominent, the verb in most 
languages usually takes the emphasis : Thus, English, I saw 
him; Danish, j eg saae ham; but French, je le vis; Italian 



Lect. II. CHANGES IN EMPHASIS 67 

io lo viclij the periodic accent, in each case, resting on tlie 
verb, in whatever part of the phrase it is placed. As a result 
of this and other analogous rules, every language has its 
peculiar modulation, depending much upon its syntax, and a 
change of verbal arrangement involves a change in that modu- 
lation. We see the effects of the habit of emphasizing the 
period at a particular point, in the pronunciation of persons 
who are learning foreign languages. A Frenchman just begin- 
ning to speak English will be sure to say, I saw him, instead of 
I saiu him, because, the verb coming last in French, he has 
been accustomed to say, je le vis. If we could suppose that 
by means of a greater influx of French syntactical forms, the 
places of the verb and the object should be reversed in the Eng- 
lish period, so that in the phrase I have cited, hiin should pre- 
cede saiu, we should learn to say, I him saiv, not I him saw, and 
thus the periodic accent or emphasis would be transferred from 
the last but one to the last word in the phrase. 

Now, something like the converse of this change actually did 
take place in the transition of Anglo-Saxon into English ; for, 
though the position of both the nominative and of the oblique 
cases in the Anglo-Saxon period was variable, yet the latter, es- 
pecially at the end of a period or member of a period, more 
frequently preceded than followed the verb, and therefore ' I 
him savj,'' would oftener be heard than ' I saiu him.' * 

^' As the case, not only of the pronoun, which in English remains throughout 
declinable, but of the noun, which in English has no objective or accusative form, 
was indicated by the ending in Anglo-Saxon, it was grammatically indifferent 
whether either the nominative or the oblique case preceded or followed the verb. 
But when, by the loss of the inflection of the noun, the syntax became positional, 
the prepositive place was assigned to the nominative, the postpositive to the 
objective. By this arrangement we have lost an elocutional advantage which the 
Anglo-Saxon possessed. In reading or speaking, the voice is sustained until the 
emphatic word of the proposition, or member, is pronounced, after which it sinks 
and becomes comparatively inaudible. The verb is generally an emphatic, if not . 
the most emphatic word in the sentence ; and hence if it be reserved to end the 
period, the wliole proposition will be more intelligibly pronounced, and therefore 
strike the listener more forcibly, than if the verb occur at an earlier point. The 
best Anglo-Saxon writers show much dexterity in availing themselves of tho 
liberty of arrangement which the structure of their language allowed. 

F 2 



68 DIFFERENCES IN PRONUNCIATION Lect. IL 

In fact, the whole subject of the difference in the articulation 
of cognate dialects spoken by nations exposed to similar, if not 
identical influences, has been hitherto not sufficiently investi- 
gated ; and the principles of phonology, the radical analysis of 
articulate sounds, must be better understood than they now are 
before any ver}^ satisfactory explanations of the causes, or even 
any very accurate statement of the facts, can be arrived at. 

We find between the Swedish and Danish, for examj)le, closely 
allied as they are in vocabulary and structure, not merely dis- 
crepancies in the pronunciation of particular words, for which 
an explanation might sometimes be suggested, but radical and 
wide-reaching differences of articulation, which no known facts 
connected with the history of either throw much light upon, 
unless we adopt the theory of a greater ancient diversity between 
those dialects than exists in their present condition. Thus the 
Swedes pronounce the consonants in general, as well as the 
vowels, with a distinctness of resonance which justifies the boast 
of Tegner, that the ring of Sv/edish is as clear as that of metal * ; 
while the Danes confound and half suppress the consonants, and 
split up the well-discriminated vowels of the Old-JSTorthern into 
a multitude of almost imperceptible shades of less energetic and 
expressive breathings. 

In like manner, the Portuguese and Castilian, which have 
grown up under not widely dissimilar circumstances, are cha- 
racterised, the former by an abundance of nasals, and by the sJi 
and zh (ch and j), which the Spanish wants altogether, — the 
latter by gutturals and lisping sounds, which are unknown to 
the Portuo'uese. 

o 

The recovery of the true pronunciation of Anglo-Saxon would 
be important, because it would facilitate etymological research 
by the comparison of its radicals with those of languages em- 
ploying other orthographical systems; and it would be conve- 
nient for the purposes of academical instruction and oral quota- 
tion: but the jDresent state of phonology, which, like other 

* EeD, 60in malmens, din Iclang. 



Lect. IL PEONUNCIATION of AXaLO-SAXON 69 

branches of linguistic knowledge, is linrrying to conclusions 
before the necessary facts are accumulated, does not authorise 
us to expect that we shall soon attain to a very precise know- 
ledge of its articulation, or be able to trace the steps by which 
its accents have been changed into those of modern English. 

Inasmuch as the Anglo-Saxons learned the art of writing from 
Eoman missionaries, the presumption is strong that their alpha-' 
betic notation corresponded nearly with the contemporaneous 
orthography of Eome, and hence that the departures of English 
pronunciation from the sounds indicated by the Latin vowels 
and consonants in Continental usage are comparatively recent 
innovations in the orthoepy of the Anglican tongue.* 

* Althougli the runic cliaracters were employed by some of tlie Germanic as 
well as Scandinavian tribes before tlieir conversion to Christianity, there is no 
evidence that they were Icnown to the Anglo-Saxons until a much later period. 
The only Anglo-Saxon character which resembles the corresponding runic letter is 
J?, and we know not when either this character or the S were introduced into that 
alphabet. It has been said that the Scandinavians borrowed the S from the 
Anglo-Saxons. The earlier Chris tianisation of this latter people, and their known 
missionary efforts, render this probable enough ; but the Old-Northern races dis- 
tinguished these two letters miich more accurately than their insular neighbours, 
while the Anglo-Saxons employed them with a confusion, which seems to indi- 
cate more indistinct notions of their value than we should expect if either of 
them was of their own invention. Old-Northern literature shows no trace of 
Anglo-Saxon influence, and the instances of the use of grammatical forms resem- 
bling the Anglo-Saxon in early Scandinavian writings, or rather inscriptions, are 
too few and too uncertain to authorise the inference that they were the fruits of 
such influence. 

There is little reason to believe that the Scandinavians themselves ever employed 
the runes for what can properly be called literary purposes. They wi'ote incanta- 
tions, carved calendars and brief inscriptions, in these letters, but it remains to be 
proved that either the mj-stic lays or the prose sagas of that people were ever 
written down at all before Christian missionaries introduced into Scandinavia a 
new religion and a new alphabet. 

The fact that the Old-Northern bards were well understood at the courts of 
the Anglo-Saxon kings, and other similar evidence, tend to show that, though 
the Old-Northern and Saxon were not regarded as the same speech, yet they must 
have much resembled each other in articulation. The Icelandic vowel-sounds, for 
the most part, coincide with the Latin — though the accented vowels of the Old- 
Northern appear to have had a diphthongal pronunciation unknown to any ol the 
alphabets of Southern Europe — and here we have a further argument in support 
of the general resemblance between the Anglo-Saxon and the Continental vowels. 

Eask supposes the orthographic accents to have lengthened the vowel in Ajiglo- 



70 PSONUNCIATION OF ANGLO-SAXON Lect. II, 

Saxon, and, in some cases, to have changed its quality, hut not to have made it 
diphthongal ; and I helieve it is generally considered simply as a sign of 'prosodical 
length, not of stress of voice. But Craik — whose History of English Literature 
and of the English Language did not become known to me imtil after the text of 
this volume was prepared for the press — argues in a note on p. 297, vol. i. of that 
work, that, in some cases at least, the unaccented vowel had the oiame or long 
sound, while the accented vowel was pronounced short. Bosworth, Origin of Ger. 
and Scand. Lang., p. 37, speaks of ' the diphthongal nature of the Avhole system of 
•Anglo-Saxon vowels.' Indeed, there are very fair arguments to prove that the 
Anglo-Saxon accents indicated prosodical length and that they did not, that the 
vowels were diphthongal and that they were not ; and we may as well confess 
what we cannot conceal, namely, that we know next to nothing at all on the 
subject. 

There are many cases where the diphthongal character of an English vowel is 
the result of a coalescence between two vowels which, in Anglo-Saxon and early 
English, belonged to different sjdiables. In the word oiun, the w stands for the 
Anglo-Saxon j, which in modern English, is usually represented by, and pro- 
nounced as, either y or g, though in other cases it has been succeeded by lu, or by 
gh, with its strange variety of articulation. The w, then, is not an element in the 
diphthongal sound of the o, in this particular word, and o has precisely the same 
sound in very many syllables where it is not followed by w or b}-- a vowel. The 
Anglo-Saxon word for own, adj., was a?, en, sometimes spelled a^an, which was a 
dissyllable. In the Ormulum it is spelled ajhenn, in old English awcn, awun, owcn^ 
owun, and was, as prosody proves, pronounced in two syllables. The latter forms 
very easily pass into own, or on, with the diphthongal o, and the origin of the 
diphthongal sound in very many English long vowels may be traced to a similar 
crasis. 

I may here observe, what should have been stated before, that, in printing Anglo- 
Saxon, I omit the accents, because they are wanting in very many of the best 
MSS. and printed editions, because the uncertainty of their value would only 
embarrass readers whom I suppose not to be masters of the language, and be- 
cause I should, by employing them, increase the chances of errors of the press in 
printing a volume the proofs of which I shall not have an opportunity to 
correct. 



I 



NOTES AKD ILLUSTEATIONS. 



I. (p. 43.) 

OATHS OF LOUIS OF GERMANY, AND OF CERTAIN FKENCH LORDS SUB- 
JECTS OF CHARLES THE BOLD, SWORN AT STRASBURG, A.D. 842. 

The text of these oaths, as given by different authorities, varies considerably. 
I print from Burgny, Grammaire do la Langue d'Oil, 1853, vol. i. p. 19. 

A. 

OATH OF LOUIS OF GEKMANY. 

Pro Deo amur et pro christian poblo et nostro commun salvament, 
d'ist di in avant, in quant Deus savir et podir me dunat, si salvarai eo 
cist meon fradre Karlo et in ajndha et in caduna cosa, si cum om per 
dreit son fradra salvar dift, in o quid il mi altresi fazet, et ab Ludher 
nul plaid nunquam prindrai, qui, meon vol, cist meon fradre Karle in 
damno sit. 

B. 

OATH OF THE FRENCH LORDS. 

Si Lodhuwigs sagrament, que son fradre Karlo jurat, conservat, et 
Karlus meos sendra de suo part non lo stanit, si io returnar non Tint 
pois, ne io ne neuls, cui eo returnar int pois, in nulla ajudha contra 
Lodhuwig nun li iuer. 

Perhaps the most important point to be noticed in these monuments 
is the use of the futures salvarai and prindrai in the oath of Louis. 
There is much evidence to prove that the modern Komance future is a 
coalescent formation (see First Series, Lecture XV., p. 336) ; but we 
have here very nearly the present French, future in this oldest specimen 
of the language. It is, however, certainly a new inflection, whatever 
maybe its origin; for the Latin salvabo could never have become 
salvarai. The ortliographical combination dh in ajudha in both 
oaths is remarkable, as probably indicating that the d was aspirated or 
pronoimced S, in that word and in other similar combinations. 



72 KOTES AND ILLUSTBATIONS LeCI. II. 

II. (p. 47.) 

USE OF PARTICIPLES IN GOTHIC LANGUAGES. 

The participle absolute often occurs in the Anglo-Saxon gospels. 
Thus, in Matthew i. 20 : Him ]>a soSlice ]>as ]nng jjencendum, 
Vulgate, H sec an tern eo cogitante. In the Lindisiarne gospels we 
have the double form, Sas soSlice 'Se he Sencende + (5ohte, 
which shows that the translator hesitated between the Latin construc- 
tion, 'Sas soSlice he ^encende, and the more idiomatic Sas so'Slice 
t5e he (5ohte. The Rush worth text gives, Sendi he j^a f ])ohte, 
and, ]ns sodlice he p oh te, not venturing upon the participial con- 
struction at all. The older "VYjcliffite text has : Sothely hym thenkynge 
these thingus ; the later, But while he thougte thes thingis. In this 
particular case, the more modern translations all employ the verb ; but, 
nevertheless, the absolute participial construction has become established 
in English syntax; and nobody scruples to write : The weather becoming 
fine, we started on our journey ; The season proving severe, and the 
roads being impracticable, the troops went into winter-quarters ; though 
it must be admitted that this form is less freely used in the colloquial 
dialect. 

The present or active participle in older Anglo-Saxon is very gener- 
ally, and, so far as I have observed, uniformly, used either Vvdth an 
auxiliary verb in such constructions as ivas pursuing , or as an adjective 
or descriptive epithet, or as a noun. In this latter case, it is often a 
compound of a noun, and a participle which originally may have 
governed the noun ; and its employment as a technical participle in a 
dependent or an independent phrase (which is so very common in Latin 
and Greek), is at least exceedingly rare, if, indeed, it occurs at all, in 
Beowulf or in Ca^dmon. In the Anglo-Saxon gospels, and in later 
writers, this construction is very frequent, and we in English still say : 
Seeing my way clear, I went on with my project; Having large means 
at his disposal, he gave liberally. 

I see no reasonable ground for doubting that these constructions 
were borrowed from the Latin and incorporated into the Anglo-Saxon 
as a new syntactical element; and if so, they are cases of a mixture of 
grammars. 

I am aware that the active participle is employed by Ulfilas in ac- 
cordance with the Latin and Greek usage, and that it is often found in 
interlinear, word-for-word, Anglo-Saxon translations from the Latin. 
But the very closene;;s with which the translation of Ulfilas corre- 
eponds to the grammatical construction of his original is a suspicious 



Lect. II. NOTES AKD ILLUSTRATIONS 73 

circumstance ; and whatever changes the translator or his copyists may 
have made in the original arrangement of the words, I think no person, 
who has practised the art of translation enough to be a competent judge 
on the subject, can doubt that Ulfilas rendered the Greek, first, word by 
word, and not sentence by sentence. These participial constructions 
are so adverse to the general syntax of all the Gothic tongues, and they 
so completely failed to secure adoption in those which had created a 
literature before translations of the Scriptures were attempted in them, 
that I think we are justified in believing that, in the employment of 
these constructions, Ulfilas was following the idiom of the Greek, and 
not of his own language. 

I admit that the Anglo-Saxon compound participial nouns, in which 
the noun-element may have been originally an accusative governed by 
the participle, give some countenance to the supposition that, in an 
earlier stage of the language, the active participle was used as a techni- 
cal verbal Jbrm ; but that construction had certainly become nearly, if 
not altogether, obsolete before the translation of the gospels, if indeed 
it ever existed. These compounds are as easily explicable upon the 
theory that the participial element was used as a noun, as upon that of 
their- having a regimen ; and I think that this is their true etymological 
history. I am too well aware of the difiiculty of proving a negative to 
affirm that no case of true participial construction exists in primitive 
Anglo-Saxon, but I know of none where the active participle is not 
used as a noun, as an adjective, or as a descriptive adverb. This last 
employment of this part of speech occurs in older, and sometimes in 
modern Danish; as, han kom ridendes, he came riding/?/; hun 
kommer kjorendes, she comes driving/?/. In German, curiously 
enough, the j^cissive participle is employed in such cases; as er kam 
geritten, sie kommt gefaliren. It is true that, in the admirable 
Danish Bible of 1550, as well as in Christian Pedersen's earlier New 
Testament, the active participle used as an adjective (and it is not em- 
ployed otherwise than adjectively or adverbially), has the same ending ; 
but at present, when a descriptive, it ends in e, and the genitival s is 
added only in adverbial constructions. 

The opinion of even J. Grimm respecting the Frisic language, and 
the facts on which those opinions are founded, may be cited in proof of 
the possibility of linguistic amalgamation. That great grammarian 
observes, Gesch. der D. S., 680 (472) : * Die friesische sprache halt 
eine mitte zwischen angelsachsischer und altncrdischer,' and p. 668 
(464) : ' In denkmalern aus der mhd. und mnl. zeit erscheint sie noch 
mit formen, die sich den altsachsischen mid althochdeutschen an die 



74 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS • Lect. II. 

seite stellen ; die abgescliiedenlieit des volks hat, beinahe wie auf Island, 
den alten sprachstand geliegt, und man ist zu dem schlusz bereclitigt, 
dasz von dem mittelalter riickwarts bis zum beginn des neunten jli., 
wo im lateinisclien volksreclit einzelne friesisclie worter begegnen, iind 
von da bis zur zeit der Eomer, in der friesisclien sprache verlialtnis- 
maszig weniger veranderungen eingetreten sein werden, als in jeder 
andern deutschen. auch in den jetzigen friesisclien dialecten dauert noch 
viel alterthumliches, wiewol anf den westfriesischen die niederliindische, 
auf den ostfriesiscben die nieder-und hochdeutsclie, auf den nordfrie- 
sischen die niederdeutsche und danische sprache starken einilusz geiibt 
haben.' Now this influence of the neighbouring languages on the 
Frisic is not confined to the vocabulary, but extends to grammatical 
forms and constructions, and, beginning on either the Netherlandish, the 
Low-German, or the High-German frontier of the Frisians, you may 
pass, sometimes by almost imperceptible gradations, but, in the case of 
districts separated by physical barriers, often by more abrupt transitions, 
from any of the first-mentioned languages to a Frisian dialect containing 
* viel alterthumliches,' and thence, by a like succession of steps, through 
the Germanised Danish of southern Jutland, to the less mixed Scandi- 
navian of the Baltic islands. 



III. (p. 47.) 
FOREIGN CONSTRUCTIONS IN ENGLISH. 

Some of these borrowed forms in English have been supposed to be 
of Scandinavian rather than of Norman- French extraction. I think 
it more probable that they are derived from the latter source, because 
they did not make their appearance in England until after the Norman 
Conquest. So far as the general question of the possibility of mixed 
grammar is concerned, it is of little consequence whether we ascribe 
them to Scandinavian or to Romance influence, so long as the fact that 
they are foreign constructions is admitted. 

In Icelandic, and in Swedish and Danish, the comparative of adjec- 
tives may, under certain circumstances, be formed by the equivalent of 
more., but the superlative is always an inflection, and not, as in the 
Eomance languages, formed by the comparative adverb with the 
article. 

The Icelandic did not express the possessive or genitive relation by 
a preposition. The Old-Northern af always took the dative, and ia 
translated in Latin by ab, de, or ex. The modern Scandinavian 



Lect. II. KOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS i 

dialects use, in many cases, a preposition as the sign of the possessive 
or genitive, and they present some curious coincidences with English 
in the use of the particle. Neither the Danish nor the English employs 
the preposition af, of, as a sign of the genitive, with all nouns indis- 
criminately. In English, we may say : ' a man of intelligence, of 
learning, of capacity,' but not, ' a field of fertility.' In the latter case 
we can use the particle only with the adjective, as : 'a field of great 
fertility.' So, asMolbech observes, in Danish, ' en Mand af Opdra- 
gelse, af Lcerdom, af Dygtighed,' not, * en Ager af Frugt- 
barlied,' though we may say : ' en Ager af stoi^ Frugtbarhed.' 
In both languages, where the preposition is used directly with the 
noun, a moderate degree of the quality ascribed is very often expressed, 
and hence we may suppose that an adjective of limitation is understood. 

The Old-Northern, as well as its modern representatives, use a 
particle before the infinitive much as in English, and sometimes two, 
til at with an infinitive being found in Icelandic, as well as til at and 
for at in Danish. This corresponds with the vulgar English /or ?<?, 
as, /or to go. It is said that the infinitive with ait occurs in the Nor- 
thumbrian gospels and rituals. I am not disposed to dispute the fact, 
though I have not been able to find an example of this construction in 
the printed texts. But however this may be, this form is not the 
origin of the English infinitive with to, which can clearly be traced back 
to the Anglo-Saxon gerundial. It should be noticed that to wyrce, 
which occurs in the Cambridge edition of the Lindisfarne text of St. 
Matthew xii. 2, as an alternative for to doanne, is probably either a 
misprint, or an error of the scribe, for to w^yrcenne, arising from the 
fact that the next word is insunnadagum (printed in one), the first 
syllable of which, in, so closely resembles ne in manuscript as to have 
led to the omission of the latter by the copyist. 

It is a not improbable suggestion, that some of the Eomance con- 
structions, to which I have referred the corresponding English 
forms, are themselves of Gothic origin, for all Europe was exposed to 
Gothic influences at the period of the formation of the Eomance 
languages. 



76 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS LecT. II. 

IV. (p. 52) and illustration V. (p. 80.) 
COMPARISON OF OLD GERMAN DIALECTS. 



-THiE lord's PEAYEIl IN DIFFERENT GERMANIC DIALECTS. 

1. 

LOAV GERMAN. 

A. 

Mcesu-Gotlilc of Ulfilas. Fourth Century. From Stamm's edition, 1858, p. C. 

Atta nnsar, ]>u in liiminam, veihnai namo ])ein. Qimai Jsindinassua 
peins. Vairjmi vilja peins, sve in himina jali ana air]:)ai. Hlaif unsarana 
J)ana sinteinan gif iins himma daga. Jali aflet iins, jatei skulans 
sijaima, svasve jali veis afletam paim sknlam imsaraim. Jah ni 
briggais iins in frastubnjai, ak lausei uns af ]^amma ubilin ; unte feina 
ist J>iudangardi jab mabts jab vulfus in aivins. Amen. 

B. 

Old-Saxon of tbe Heliand. Ninth century. Alliterative and rliy tbmical para- 
plirase. From Scbmeller's text, 1830, p. 48. 

Fadar if ufa* firibo barno. tbe if an tbem bobou" 

bimilarikea. Geuuibid fi tbin namo* 

iiuordo gebuuilico. cuina tbin craftag riki. 

Uuerda tbin uuilleo* obar tbefa uuerold. 

al fo fama an erdo. fo tbar iippa iff an tbem babon* 

bimilrikea. Gef uf dago gebuuilikel rad* 

drobtin tbe godo. tbina belaga belpa. 

Endi alat nf bebenes uuard* managoro mensculdio. 

al fo line odrum mannum doan. Ne lat nl farledean* 

letba uuibti. So ford an iro uuilleon* 

So UTii uuirdige find. Ac belp uf XLuidar allum' 

iibilon dadiun. 



Anglo-Saxon alliteratiye and rhythmical paraphrase. Grein's Text, ii. 285. 
Age of MS. not stated. 

[Halig] fader, ]?u ]>e on beofonum eardast 

geve[orSad] vuldres dreame ! Sy pinum veorciim bllgad 

noma ni$t5a beamum I pu eart uergend vera. 



Lect. II. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 77 

Cyme ]>m rice vide and ]7in rsedfast villa 

Srasred under rodores hrofe, eac pon on rumre foldan ! 

Syle us to dage domfastne bleed, 

hlaf useme, lielpend vera, 

pone singalail, soSfast meotod ! 

Ne l£Et usic costunga cnyssan to svide, 

ac ]?u us freadom gief, folca valdend, 

from yfla gelivam a to vidan feore i 

D. 

Anglo-Saxon from tlie New Testament, Matthew vi. 9 — 13. Text of the 
University Edition, Cambridge, 1858. Age of MS. not stated. 

Feeder lire |>u "pe eart on heofenum, Si pin nama gehalgod . To-becume 
pin rice . Ge^vurSe pin willa on eorSan, swa swa on heofonum . Urne 
gedEegliwamlican hlaf syle us to daeg . And forgyf us lire gyltas swa 
swa we forgyfa5 lirum gyltendum. And ne gelagd pu us on costnunge, 
ac alys us of yfele : So^lice. 

E. 

Platt-Deutscli or Sasseseh. Sixteenth century. Prom Bugenhagen's version of 
Luther's High-Germain translation, text of 1-541. Magdebmg, 1545. 

Vnse Vader in dem Hemmel. Dyn Name w^erde gehilliget. Dyn 
Eike kame. Dyn Wille geschee, vp Erden alse im Hemmel. Vnse 
dachlike Brod giff vns hllden. Vnd vorgiff vns vnse Schlilde, alse 
vy vnsen ScliUldeners vorgeuen. Vnd vore vns nicht in Vorsokinge, 
sunder vorlose vns van dem ouel , wente dyne ys dat Ryke , vS de 
Krafft , vn de Herlicheit in Ewicheit , Amen*. 

2. 

man German. 
A. 

From Otfrid's Krist. Ninth century. Ehymed paraphrase. Graff's Text, 1831, 
p. 163. 

Fater unfer giiato . bift driihtin thu gimiiato . 
in himilon io holier . imili li namo thiner . 
Biqueme uns thina^ richi . tliaz lioha himilriclii . 

tliara uuir zua io gingen . ioli emmizigen tliingen . 
Si uuillo thin hiar nidare . fof er ift ufan himile . - 
in erdu hilf uns hiare . fo thu engilon duift nu thdre . 



78 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS liBCT. II. 

Thia dagalichun ziihti . gib liiiitu uns mit giniiliti . 

ioli iollcn cull llieift raera . tliines felbes lera . 
Sciild bilaz uns alien . fo uuir ouli duan uuoUen . 

fiinta tliia tiuir thenken . ioli emmizigen imirken . 
Ni firlaze unfih tliin uuara . in tlies uuidaruuerten fara^ 

thaz uuir ni mifrigangeu . tliar ana ni gifallen . 
Loii unfih io tlianana . tliaz uuir fin thine thegana. 

B. 

Lutlier's translation, from Sticr and Tliiele, 1854, after the edition of 1544, 
p. 21. ■ 

Unser Vater in dem Himmel, dein Name werde geheiliget, dein 
Eeich komme, dein Wille geschehe auf Erden wie im Himmel, unser 
taglicli Brot gib uns heute, und vergib uns unsere Scliulden wie wir 
unsern Scliuldigern vergeben und flihre uns niclit in Versuchung, 
soudern erlose uns von dem Uebel : denn dein ist das Eeicb und die 
Kraft und die Herrliclikeit, in Ewigkeit, Amen ! 

I here insert several Semi- Saxon and old English versions of the 
Lord's Prayer, not for their bearing on the question of the divergence 
of dialects, but because it is convenient to have all the translations of 
the Paternoster together, for the purpose of tracing the changes in 
English. 

From a MS. of the early part of the thirteenth century. Eeliquise An- 
tiq.ii8e, I. 235. 

Fader ure Satt art in hevene blisse, 

6in hege name itt wurSe bliscedd^ 

Cumen itt mote ti kingdom, 

din hali wil it be al don, 

In hevene and in ercie all so, 

So itt sail ben ful wel ic tro ; 

Gif us alle one '8is dai 

Ure bred of ichc dai 

And forgive us ure sinne 

Als we don ure wiSerwinnes ; 

Leet us noct in fondinge falle, 

Ooc fro ivel (Su sild us alle. Amen. 

From a MS. of the thirteenth century, Eeliquise Antiquse, i. 282. 

Fader cure pat art in heve, i-halgeed bee \>i nome, i-cume J>i 
kinereiche, y-worthe ]n wylle also is in hevene so be on erthe, oure 



LEcr. IL KOTES AND ILLUSTPvATIONS 79 

icii-clajcs-bred gif us to-day, & forgif us our giiltes, also we forgifet 
cure gultare, & ne led ows nowtli into fondingge, autli ales oavs of 
harmc. So be hit. 

From a IMS. of the thirteentli century, Eeliquise AiitiquEe, i, 57. 
Ure fader irv hevene liche, 
]n name be lialiid ever i-liclie, 
]ni bringe us to ]n micliil blisce, 
J?i wille to Avirche ]>u tis wisse, 
Als hit is in hevene i do 
Ever in eorpe ben it al so, 
j^at holi bred pat leste]? ay 
]>u send hit ous pis ilke day, 
Forgive ous alle pat we havip don, 
Als we forgivet uch opir man, ^ 

Ne lete us falle in no fondingo, 
Ak scilde us fro pe foule pinge. 

. From Wycliffe's New Testament. Oxford, 1850. Matthew vi. 9—13. 

Ourc fadir that art in heuenes, halwid be thi name ; thi kyngdom 
cumme to ; be thi willc don as in heuen and in erthe ; gif to vs this 
day ouer breed oure other substaunce ; and forgeue to vs oure dettis 
as we forjeue to oure dettours ; and leede vs nat in to temptacioun, 
but delyuere vs fro yuel. Amen. 

From Purvey's recension, same edition. 

Oure fadir that art in heuenes, halewid be thi name ; thi kingdoom 
come to ; be thi wille don in erthe as in heuene ; jyue to vs this dai 
cure breed ouer othir substaunce ; and forjyue to vs oure dettis as we 
forjyuen to oure dettouris ; and lede vs not in to temptacioun, but 
delyuere vs fro yuel. Amen. 

From Tyndale's Testament. 1528. Eeprint. Boston, 1837. 

O oure father which art in heven, halowed be thy name. Let thy 
kingdom come. Thy Avyll be fulfilled, as well in erth, as hitys in heven. 
Geve vs this daye our dayly breade. And forgeve vs oure treaspases 
euen as we forgeve them which treaspas vs. Leede vs not into tempta- 
tion, but delyvre vs from yvell. Amen. 

In comparing the versions of the Heliand and of Otfrid with each 
other and with the other specimens, allowance must be made for 



80 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. IL 

variations due to their poetical forms, for the paraphrastical character 
of both, and perhaps for differences of orthographical system ; but 
after all deductions, there still remain parallel Avords and forms enough 
to serve as a reasonably satisfactory test of the logical and grammatical 
resemblance and diversities between the Low-German dialect of the 
former and the High-German of the latter, as also between the poetical 
Old-Saxon of the Heliand, the Anglo-Saxon of the text from Grein, 
and the prose of the Anglo-Saxon Testament. 

Between the Platt-Deutsch or modern Saxon of Bngenhagen and the 
High-German of Luther the parallelism is perfect, the one being a 
translation from the other, and of course the correspondence is almost 
equally close between the Moeso-Gothic of Ulfilas, the Anglo-Saxon 
Testament, and the Platt-Deutsch of Bngenhagen, all of which belong 
to the Low-Germian branch of the Teutonic. 

Li comparing these monuments of the Teutonic language in different 
dialects and from different chronological periods, I do not find proof 
that at remote historical periods the dialects of the German speech 
were * less plainly distinguished than in later eras.' On the contrary, it 
appears to me that the great divisions of the language were much less 
widely separated in the sixteenth century than in the ninth. So far as 
the evidence deducible from Ulfilas goes, the distance must have been 
greater still in the fourth century, and consequently the dialects appear 
to approximate as they advance, diverge as they ascend. 

It is true that, in order to arrive at conclusive results, much more 
extended comparisons must be made, but I think that an examination 
of Hildibrand and Hadubrand, Muspilli, Notker, the numerous philo- 
logical monuments in Haupt's Zeitschrift, and Graff's Diutiska, 
especially the ancient vocabularies and interlinear glosses of the Middle 
Ages, — ^for example, the glossary in Graff, I. 128, et. seq., from two 
MSS. of the eighth century, — cannot fail to strengthen the inference I 
draw from the different texts of the Lord's Prayer. 

V. (pp. 41, 52.) 

OLD GERMAN DIALECTS. 

This, I am aware, is contrary to the opinion of J. Grimm, who 
says, Gcsch. der D. S. 834 : '• Zur zeit, wo deutsche sprache in der 
geschichtc auftritt .... ihre eignen dialecte scheinen imbedeutender 
und unentschiedener als in der folge." In a certain sense, the German 
language makes its appearance in history in the classic ages of Greek 
and Kouian literature, that is, the language is often spoken of, and a 



Lect. II. NOTES AND ILLUSTEATTONS 81 

few proper and common nouns belonging to it are recorded by the 
"Writers of those periods. But these few r^'mains give us no notion 
whatever of the inflexional or syntactical system of the language, or of 
the mutual relations of its dialects, and consequently no means of 
comparing or estimating the discrepancies of those dialects. On the 
former point Ulfilas furnishes us our earliest information, and, of course, 
our first hioicledge of any Germanic speech dates from the fourth 
centuiy. We have no contemporaneous or nearly contemporaneous 
remains of any cognate dialect, except a few single words from which 
no safe conclusions can be draA\Ti, and hence we know nothing of the 
resemblances or diversities between the different branches of the 
Teutonic speech at that period. The assertion, then, that the German 
dialects, at our first historical acquaintance with that language, ' appear 
to have been less broadly disting^^ished than afterwards,' is a pin-e 
conjecture sustained by no known fact. For comparisons of the early 
and modern Germanic speeches, see illustration IV. at end of this lecture. 



VI. (p. 52.) 

SCANDINAYIAN LANGUAGES. 

There is strong evidence to prove an identity of speech in all the 
Scandinavian countries "at the commencement of their literature, or 
rather to show that, in spite of local differences of dialect, the language 
was regarded as one by those who used it. The testimony on this 
subject will be found in the preface to Egilsson's Lexicon Poeticum 
Antiquaj Linguae Septentrionalis, where all the passages in Old- Northern 
literature which bear on the question are collected. But, on the other 
hand, a comparison of the diction of the manuscripts establishes rather 
a diversity than a unity of language at the earliest period to which they 
reach. We have no manuscripts in any of the Scandinavian dialects 
older than the twelfth, in all probability none older than the thirteenth 
century, though very many of the works found in these manuscripts 
are of much earlier date, and, so far as can be judged by internal 
evidence, more or less faithfully conformed to a more primitive ortho- 
graphy and grammar. In original manuscripts, or contemporaneous 
copies, of works composed in Denmark and Sweden as early as the 
oldest existing codex of any Icelandic author, there occur numerous 
words, forms, and constructions which are more closely allied to those of 
the modern dialects of those coimtries than to the vocabulary and 
grammar of the Old-Northern. It has been hence argued, that the 

a 



82 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. II. 

Danish and Swedish are descended, not from the Old-Northern of the 
Icelandic writers, but from cognate parallel dialects of equal antiquity. 
The evidence from the runic inscriptions found in the Northern King- 
doms — many of Avhich are believed, and some almost certainly knovrn 
to be much more ancient than any extant manuscript in any Scandina- ■ 
vian dialect — although their orthography is very variable and uncertain, 
points to the same conclusion. The strictly common origin, then, of 
the Icelandic, Swedish, and Danish, though very generally admitted, is 
not absolutely proved, and my oAvn language on this subject in my First 
Series, Lecture XVII., p. 368 and elsewhere, must be taken with some 
qualification. But the error, if it be an error, was not material to my 
argument in the passages referred to, for the essential fact still subsists, 
namely, that while the Icelandic, protected from foreign influences by 
the almost complete social and literary, as well as physical isolation of 
the people which uses it, has undergone little change, the Danish and 
Swedish, on the contrary, have departed from their earlier forms to an 
extent, and in directions, proportionate to, and determined by, the 
amount and character of the alien influences to which they have been 
respectively exposed. The Swedish is still essentially a Scandinavian 
tongue, in both words and forms, but, though the Danes have preserved 
the principal characteristics of their ancient grammar, their vocabulary 
is lamentably denationalized. 

See Molbech's sketch of the history of the Danish language, in the 
last edition of his Danish Dictionary, 1859. 



VII. (p. 54.) 
DIVERaENCE OF DIALECTS. 

I beg not to be misunderstood as covertly arguing, in any of the 
foregoing remarks, against the received opinion of a common origin of 
the whole human race. I am not a convert to the oj)posite theory, nor 
do I profess to be competent to weigh the purely physical evidence on 
this question ; but the force of truth is ahvays weakened "when it is 
sustained by unsound arguments, and I do not hesitate to say that in 
my judgment, the evidence derivable from actual, as distinguished from 
conjectural linguistic history, does not support the doctrine of the unity 
and common descent of the human species. 

The opinion I have advanced of the divergence of languages as we 
follow them up to their earliest recorded forms, and their convergence 
as they descend, is not irreconcilable with the well-established fact of 



■ 



LecT. II. KOTES AND ILLUSTRxVTIONS 83 

the tendency of every human speech to self- division, and the progres- 
sive development of dialects under certain circumstances. Whenever 
a homogeneous people with a common tongue is divided into separate 
and unconnected tribes, by emigration, by local changes in religious or 
political institutions, or by any of the numerous causes which break up 
large nations into smaller fragments, the speeches of the different mem- 
bers of the race become distinct, not by virtue of laAvs of repulsion 
.and divergence inherent in the language itself, but just in proportion to 
the character and energy of the new circumstances under which the 
separate divisions of the family are placed, and the degree in which the 
communication between them is interrupted. 

Now, admitting that all men are descended from a single pair, these 
divisions of nation and of tongue must have been very common at that 
primitive period when agriculture and art did not yet admit of density of 
population, and when for the children of every swarming hive, 

* The world ^vas all before them, where to choose 
Their place of rest,' 

and hence the p=-imitive language or languages were soon vsplit uj) into a 
multitude of patois, more or less unlike to each other and to their com- 
mon source. These are events of which human annals have preserved 
only scanty and imperfect records ; but the dialectic changes, produced by 
emigration and colonisation within the historical period, are sufficiently 
well known to enable us to conceive of the extent of the linguistic revo- 
lutions which must have occurred in remoter eras. But from the most 
ancient date to which authentic profane records extend, the general ten- 
dency of human political society has been towards increased communi- 
cation, intermixture, confusion, and amalgamation of races and tongues. 
Hence, during this period — the only period through which we can 
trace the history of language with any approach to certainty — all influ- 
ences, with the exception of those of emigration and analogous causes of 
little comparative importance, have co-operated to produce a constantly 
increasing convergence of the more widely diffused dialects, and an 
extirpation of tlie less important and more narrowly limited patois. 
While then it is theoretically not improbable that the age of general 
approximation was preceded by a long period of general divergence of 
tongues, it must be remembered that this conclusion is mere matter of 
inference from analogy, and by no means an established fact ; for all that 
history teaches us is, that the further we go back the v/ider was the 
diversity of speech among men. ' Tout ce que nous savons des langues 
aux epcques les plus voisines dc leur origine,' says Fauriel, * nous Ics 

o 2 



84 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. IL 

inoiij;re divkees en dialectes et sous-dialectes pen etendus. II faut, pour 
Ics amener a rimit6, pour les y fondre, d'immenses evenements ct un 
temps tres-long relativement a la vie, je ne dis pas des individus et des 
families, mais des peuples,' &c. Fauriel Dante et la Langue Italienne^ 
1854, ii. 303. 

Tlie proposition, that languages descended from the same stock aie 
incapable of grammatical mixture, seems to me to involve a contradic- 
tion, and at last to lead inevitably to the conclusion against which I am 
protesting. It assumes that speeches derived from a common original, 
and developed from it by organic law, independently of external lin~ 
guistic influences, become, by the action of this common law of their 
being, so diverse from each other in structure and specific nature, that 
although they still retain the essential characteristics of their common 
parent, no alliance or coalescence between them is possible. This is at 
variance with all that organic physiology has taught us, and if the 
alleged repugnance and irreconcilability be admitted, we must resort 
to the hypothesis of an independent creation for every known language. 
1 am not prepared to adopt this hypothesis, but, at the same time, I 
admit that in the phenomena of language considered by themselves, 
and without reference to theological doctrines or ethnological theories, 
I do not find any serious objection to it ; and if I believed in the impos- 
sibility of grammatical mixture, permanent linguistic hybridism, I 
should find myself compelled to espouse it. 

None but the followers of the school of which Darwin is now the most 
conspicuous teacher infer, from similarity of structure, a community of 
origin between different organic species of the same genus in a particu- 
lar country, or between representative species in different countries. 
By most botanists, oaks, between which no constant difference can be 
pointed out except in the shape of the cup of the acorn, are maintained 
to be specifically distinct, and not descended from a common stock. 
Wh}'-, then, is it not equally probable that the community of nature in 
man has produced any number of languages closely resembling each 
other, but not genealogically related ? In comparing very many species 
of plants and animals, the points of coincidence are vastly more numerous 
and important than those of difference, but while a flight divergence in 
normal type is held to establish a specific diversity in the tree or the 
quadruped, an enormous discrepancy in vocabulary and syntax is not 
considered as disproving community of origin in languages. If language 
be considered as a gift from an external source — a machine Avith a 
certain limited range of movements — it is difficult to get rid of the 
theory of hereditary or rather traditional descent ; but if we regard it 



Lect. ii. notes and illustrations 85 

as an organic product, a natural result of tlie constitution and condition 
of man, and not as an assemblage of arbitrary or conventional symbols, 
it follows that lexical or grammatical resemblances in languages no 
more prove their original identity than a certain coincidence in struc- 
ture and function of organ establishes a consanguinity between all the 
species of the genus felis in quadrupeds, or the descent of all the plants 
embraced under the generic term j^C2^5 from a single germ. 

VIII. (p. 60.) 

ANTIPATHY BETWEEN SAXONS AND CELTS. 

Not to speak of earlier and less familiar instances, I may refer to the 
quaintly ludicrous accoitnt of the Irish and of the four wild kings caught 
and tamed by Richard II., in Froissart (who of course was speaking the 
sentiments of his English friends); to Stanihurst's Ireland, in llolinshed; 
to Wren's papers, quoted in the notes to Wilkins's edition of Sir Thomas 
Browne; and finally to Pinkerton, Avho argued so stoutly the inferiority of 
the Celtic race : ' Show me a great O',' said he, ' and I am done.' These 
opinions of course are not authorities, nor worth citing for any purpose 
except as expressions of a feeling which, as we have abundant evidence, 
has been entertained by all the non-Celtic inhabitants of England, from 
the Saxon invasion to the present day ; and this is an important fact, 
because it tends to explain why English has borrowed so few words from 
any existing forms of the Celtic. If the Celtic Britons were a Christian 
people at the time of their subjugation by the Saxons, to the extent 
which their advocates maintain, and had the culture which has every- 
where accompanied the diffusion of Christianity, they could not have 
failed to propagate that religion among their conquerors, unless an in- 
vincible obstacle wa.s found in the mutual antipathy between the nations. 
But the Anglo-Saxons were converted by missionaries from Eome, and 
the same cause which prevented the incorporation of any considerable 
portion of the Celtic vocabulary into the Saxon speech — whether the 
intellectual inferiority of the Celt or the hatred of race — prevented akso 
the adoption of the Christian religion by the invaders. 

IX. (p. 60.) 

CELTIC ETYMOLOGIES. 

Koenen, De Nederlandsche Boerenstand Historisch ]peschreven, p. 17, 
following Boot, ascribes a Latin origin to the Dutch words akker, 
ager, zaad, satum, hooi-vork, furca^ juk, jugunij wan, 



86 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS I.ECT. 11. 

vannus^ dorsclivlegel, flagellum, sikkel, secida, spade, 
s path a. Every one of these words, and others of the same class, 
such as cult or, culter, or coulter, are found in Anglo-Saxon, and the 
argument is equally strong to show that that language took them from 
the same source. 

The generally inferior culture of the Celtic to the Latin and Gothic 
races would afford a presumption that the Celts also had borrowed from 
the Komans such of these words as occur in their speech. But the 
curious and almost unnoticed fact of the existence of reaping-machines 
among the Gauls, stated by the elder PHny, shows an advanced condition 
of both agricultural and mechanical art in that people, and, of course, 
authorises us to suppose that they had a proportionately complete rural 
vocabulary. The probability is that most of the words in question 
belong to an earlier period of human speech than that of the existence 
of any language identifiable as distinctly Celtic, Gothic, or Italic. 

I have elsewhere adverted to the probability that many words alleged 
to bo Celtic were of Latin origin, and that in many cases, roots supposed 
Celtic are, as probably, Gothic. Mr. Dayies says that ca7^t is Welsh 
from car, a dray or sledge, but as I have observed in a note on the 
word cart, in the American edition of Wedgwood, cart occurs in the 
Norse Alexandur's Saga, of the thirteenth century, and may, therefore, 
with equal plausibility, be claimed as Gothic. Gown has been supposed 
to be of Welsh origin, but as this word is found in mediaeval Greek and 
Latin, as well as in Old-French and Italian, it is a historical, not an 
etymological question, to what stock it belongs. See Du Cange gun a, 
2. gunna, gonna, gouna, gunella. The Welsh gwn, to whichitis 
referred, is said to mean toga, but, as a question of radical etymology, 
more probable sources for gown may be found elsewhere ; for the name 
of so complex a garment is not likely to be a primitive. Garnett 
thinks harrow is Welsh berfa, button, W. botwm, crook, W. crog, 
tenter, "W. deintur, ivain, W. gwain, ^m?2, W. pan, solder, W. 
sawduriaw, &c., &c. But is not harrow more probably the A, S. 
b ere Ave from beran to carry ; hutton the French bout on, a bud or 
knob, from bouter, to push or sprout; crook cognate with Icelandic 
krokr, a hook; tenter from the Latin tend ere, to stretch ; ivain, the 
Gothic wagen, vagn; j^an, the Gothic panna, pandc, pfanne; 
and especially solder, which is found in all the Romance languages, the 
Latin solidare, from solidus, used by Pliny in the precise sense, to 
solder? These are purely questions of historical etymology, and we 
can no more determine them by comparison of forms, than we can 
prove by the linguistic character of the name Alfred, that that prince 
had, or had not a real existence. 



Lect. II. NOTES AND ILITISTRATIONS 87 

X. (p. 64.) 
DIFFICULTY OF APPEECIATINa FOREiaN SOUNDS. 

Persons whose attention lias not been specially drawn to the subject 
are little aware of the difficult}^, I will not say, of imitating or of 
"\vriting down, but even of hearing the peculiar sounds of foreign 
languages. An anecdote may serve to illustrate this. There is a 
Persian Avord in very common use throughout the East — bakhsheesh 
— meaning a gift or a present. It is the equivalent in meaning of the 
Old-English largess, and is employed by the attendants on great men 
and strangers, Avhen gifts are made or expected, in just the same 
way. The Turkish articulation of all words is exceedingly distinct, 
and this particular word, bakhsheesh, which every traveller in Turkey 
hears a hundred times a day, is uttered with an unction that makes it 
very impressive to the ears of a stranger ; hence one would imagine 
that its true pronunciation would be readily seized by the obtusest ear. 
Notwithstanding this, a distinguished gentleman who had passed most 
of his life in foreign lands, and had spent many years at Constantinople 
in a diplomatic capacity, was unable to come any nearer to the sound 
of bakhsheesh than bactshtascJi. He thus writes in one of his published 
letters : ' There is only one word in all my letters which I am certain, 
(however they may be written), of not having spelt wrong, and that is 
the word bactshtasch, which signifies a present. I have heard it so 
often, and my ear is so accustomed to the sound, and my tongue to the 
pronunciation, that I am now certain I am not -wrong the hundredth 
part of a Avhisper or lisp. There is no other word in the Turkish, so 
well impressed on my mind, and so well remembered. Whatever else 
I have written, bactshtasch ! my earliest acquaintance in the Turkish 
language, I shall never forget you ! '— Constantinople and its Environs, 
in a series of letters, by an American long resident. N. Y. 1835. 11. 
p. 151. 

Ifj then, persons of fair intelligence are liable so strangely to pervert 
the sounds of foreign words which they have heard and used for years, 
what can any man's opinions be worth on the sounds of a langucige 
which he never heard at all ? 



LECTUEE III. 



ANGLO-SAXOIS' VOCABULARY, LITERATURE, AND GRAMIMAR. 

In order to a just estimate of the capacities of the Anglo- 
Saxon tongue, we must pass from the forms and sounds of its 
words, the sensuous impressions they produce on the organ of 
hearing, to their significance, their power of communicating 
fact and exciting emotion, which constitutes the essence of 
human speech. 

We must here admit that our knowledge of Anglo-Saxon is 
not such as to enable us to pronounce on this point with as 
much certainty as in the case of many other languages, dead as 
well as living. The extant, or at least printed, literature of 
that tongue is not sufficiently extensive and varied in subject 
and in treatment to furnish us with the true and only means 
we can ever possess of learning the actual force of words, 
namely, observation of their use at different periods, in different 
combinations, and by different writers, and we therefore do not 
understand an Anglo-Saxon book as we do a work in a living 
foreign, or even an ancient classical, language.* True the 
close alliance between the Anglo-Saxon and English helps us 
to run through Anglo-Saxon narrative works, and simple 
homilies like those of Alfric. with great ease; but when, we 

* Anglo-Saxon lexicography was in a very unsatisfactory condition until the 
appearance of Bosworth's learned and laborious dictionary, which was a very timely 
and important addition to our facilities for studying the ancient mother tongue of 
England. The glossaries to Schmid's Gesetze der Angel-Sachsen, and to Grein's 
Bibliothek der Angel-Sachsischen Poesie, are also extremely vahiable contributions 
to the same branch of philology. But, after all, word-books cannot go beyond 
their authorities, and a fragmentary literature can have but imperfect lexicons. 



LtCT. UI. CAPACITIES OF ANGLO-SAXON 89 

take an Anglo-Saxon poem in hand, we interpret, not read our 
author, and no man can make himself as much at home in 
Beowulf and Coedmon as a good Grecian may in Homer,* 

But imperfect as is our knowledge of nice distinctions and eva- 
nescent shades of meaning in Anglo-Saxon words, we can say, 
with confidence, that in the highest quality of speech, the power 
of varied expression upon moral and intellectual topics, this 
language was certainly not inferior to any other of the Gothic 
stock. 

In estimating its capacities in this respect, we are not to 
compare it with the modern Scandinavian and Teutonic tongues, 
which have received centuries of culture since Anglo-Saxon 
became extinct, but with those languages at periods when they 
had enjoyed a much inferior amount of Christian and classic 
influence. Christianity was introduced among the Anglo-Saxons 
in the sixth century, into those parts of Germany with which 
the Anglo-Saxons were most nearly connected, some centuries 
after the emigration of that people, and into Scandinavia and 
Iceland not far from the year 1000, though some small progress 
had been made by Christian missionaries in Denmark, Norway, 
and Sweden at an earlier period. It would not be fair to run 
a parallel between the Anglo-Saxon of the age of Csedmon, 

* It may seem a trifling, but I believ^e it is a just obserration, tliat one of tlie 
best practical tests of proficiency in a foreign language is the degree in which the 
student is capable of enjoying a blunder in the use of it. "When we have so far 
appropriated a new speech that the mistakes of a stranger, in its grammar or 
pronunciation, produce upon us the same odd and ludicrous effect as errors in our 
vernacular, we may be sure that we have pretty fully mastered it ; but we must 
regard om*selves as tiros until we have become thus far imbued with its spirit. 

Learned Lepsius engraved upon the Great Pyramid, for the delectation of 
the disembodied sprites that haunt that ' pile stupendous,' and of such future 
travellers in the East as might happen to know no language more modern than 
that of Cheops, a hieroglyphic record of his antiquarian pilgi-image to Egypt; 
but I doubt whether Mr. Birch could contrive to exfract an honest laugh cut of 
the possible solecisms in sequence and juxtaposition of the birds, reptiles, and 
horned cattle that figure in that inscription ; and I fear that the perhaps too 
poetical licenses of Mr. Conybeare's Anglo-Saxon rhythms did not strike Mr. 
Kemble as comical enough to produce that salutary deopilation of the spleen which 
the French hold to be so serviceable to the health of sedentary gentlemen. 



90 MCESO-GOTHIC Lect. III. 

who lived in the seventh century, and the Grerman of Goethe ; 
the comparison ought to be instituted between corresponding 
stages of philological development. Such a correspondence 
cannot be arrived at by a mere computation of time, because 
we have no sufficient means of knowing the precise syntactical 
or lexical character of either speech until some time after Chris- 
tianity had bestowed upon them the Eoman alphabet, and sup- 
plied both the means and the incentives for an extended literary 
culture. To this remark the Mceso-Grothic is an apparent 
exception. It is said that Ulfilas, who translated the Scriptures 
into his native tongue, in the fourth century, himself invented 
his alphabet, or rather accommodated the Greek and Latin 
characters to his purposes, and first reduced the Moeso-Gothic 
language to writing.* We should therefore suppose that he 
would have employed, in his translation, the current forms and 
the standard vocabulary of the heathen period; for the conver- 
sion of the Moeso-Goths was then too recent to allow any very 
essential modification of their speech by Christian influences to 
have taken place. In the want of evidence to the contrary, 
we should think ourselves authorised to suppose that we have, 
in the remains of the work of Ulfilas, a specimen of a Gothic 
dialect in what may be called a normal form, that is, a form 
spontaneously developed by the operation of its own organic 
laws and native tendencies, uncontrolled by alien influences, 

'•■ Theophilus, a Gothic "bishop, or rather a bishop of the Goths (possibly an 
episcojpus in partiLzcs), was present at the Council of Nice, a.d. 325, and it is henco 
inferred that some considerable proportion of the Mceso- Goths were Christianized 
a couple of generations before the execution of Ulfilas's translation. There is also 
other evidence of the introduction of Christianity among this people, by Cappa- 
docian captives, in the third century. It is not probable that a Christian nation 
would remain a hundred years without letters, and it is hardly credible that they 
contented themselves, so long, with so rude an alphabet as the runic. TJllilas 
must, then, be taken rather as the improver than as the inventor of the alphabet 
he used. I see no ground for the opinion that the monkish or black-letter 
characters of the Middle Ages were borrowed from those of Ulfilas. Those who 
did not inherit his speech would not have succeeded to his alphabet. There is no 
very close resemblance between his system and the mediaeval black letter, and the 
latter does not follow the arrangement of the former, or retain all its characters. 



n 



Lect. III. SCANDINAVIAN LANarAGES 91 

except, indeed, so far as the diction of a translation is always 
modified by the idiom of its original and the nature of its 
subject. But I have shown, I think, that the force of the par- 
ticiple and the syntactical construction of the period were, 
contrary to the genius of the Grothic family of tongues, pro- 
bably conformed by Ulfilas to the usage of the Greek ; and it 
is possible that other grammatical innovations were introduced 
by him. With respect to the inflectional forms and the general 
vocabulary of the Moeso-Grothic, however, we have no evidence 
of any corruption or chauge.* 

Of other Teutonic dialects, we have only a few fragments, 
too inconsiderable in a,mount a.nd of too doubtful reading, to 
serve as a basis for any general conclusions, until a sufScient 
time after the christianisation of Grermany for important changes 
to have taken place. 

The oldest existing Scandinavian manuscripts date only from 
the thirteenth century, though some of the works of which tliey 
are copies were no doubt composed during the heathen era, 
and many Avithin a few years after. But it was the almost 
universal habit of scribes to conform orthography and inflection 
to the standard of their own time, and therefore a manuscript 
copy of a work of an earlier period is, in general, not admissible 
evidence as to the formal characteristics of the dialect of the 
original, f 

The Moeso-Gothic, as we have seen, cannot be identified as 
the direct parent of any later Teutonic dialect ; and as its lite- 

^ The Upsala MS. of Ulfilas, called the Codex Argenteus, either because bound 
ill silver, or because it is executed almost wholly in silver characters, is thought 
to have been written not later than a hundred or a hundred and fifty years after 
the death of the translator, and the few other extant remains of that language 
are referred to about the same period. It is not impossible that the Mceso-Grothic 
had undergone some change in the interim, but its literature was apparently so 
restricted that there was little room for the v/ritten secular dialect to influence 
the sacred, and it is probable that in accidence and vocabulary the Mceso-Gothic 
of Ulfilas is purer and more unsophisticated than any other philological monument 
of European literature. 

t See First Series, Lecture XIX., p. 421. 



92 MCESO-GOTHIC AND ANGLO-SAXON Lect. III. 

rature perished almost as soon as it was born, we are acquainted 
with it only in a single phase, that, namely, when it sprang 
into sudden existence as a finished medium of literary effort. 
All the other G-othic tongues, on the contrary, become first 
known to us, at periods when they had been subjected for a con- 
siderable time to influences which cannot have failed to pro- 
duce very essential modifications in them, and when they were 
still in an unstable and revolutionary condition. 

Between the Moeso-Gothic and the Anglo-Saxon, then, no 
fair comparison can be instituted, and as to the other cognate 
languages, the only just method of testing their respective capa- 
bilities would be to take each at the highest pitch of culture 
and of power attained by it, under those fresh impulses of 
youthful civilisation which, in most respects, w^ere the same for 
them all. 

The Anglo-Saxon reached this its most classic stage as early 
as the ninth century, and the w^orks of King Alfred, and of 
Alfric the grammarian (who, however, died a hundred years 
later,) may be taken as specimens of the language in its best 
estate ; the Icelandic was at its acme probably in the twelfth 
century, the saga of Njall being the best exemplification ; and 
the High-German, as it appears in the Nibelungen Lied, about 
the year 1 2 00. Half a century later, the voluminous works of Van 
Maerlant, and other contemporaneous writers, first gave form 
and consistence to the Netherlandish or Dutch, and established 
its syntax substantially as it has since remained. 

In comparing these languages at these respective periods, 
we shall observe that the Anglo-Saxon laboured under what 
was in some respects a disadvantage, that of being a more 
mixed and composite speech in point of vocabulary and, in 
some degree, of syntax, and therefore was less harmonious and 
symmetrical in its growth and development than the different 
Continental branches of the G-othic. Its derivatives are gene- 
rally less easily and less certainly traced to more primitive 
forms and simpler significations. Hence the meaning of a 



Lect. III. ANGLO-SAXON COPIOUS 93 

larger prop.>rtion of its words is apparently arbitrary, and not 
deducible from the primary sense of known radicals ; and with 
respect to that portion of its roots which are not identifiable as 
Gothic, its power of derivation and composition is less than that 
possessed by other Grothic dialects over their own indigenous 
stock. 

It is partly, no doubt, to its mixed character that the Anglo- 
Saxon is indebted for its copiousness, which is perhaps the 
feature of its vocabulary that first strikes a student familiar 
with the Scandinavian and Grerman languages. In mere num- 
ber of vocables, its poetical nomenclature, indeed, falls far short 
of that of the Icelandic ; but the copiousness and wealth of a 
speech is not to be estimated by a numerical computation of 
words. The true test is : for what variety of distinct sensuous 
impressions, images, and objects, and of moral sentiment and 
intellectual conception, for what amount of attributives of 
quality, for what categories of being and what manifestations of 
action it has specific names. The mere multiplication of desig- 
nations for a single thing, though it may increase the power of 
picturesque expression, and is therefore a convenient poetical 
and rhetorical resource, does not add to the real copiousness of 
a speech. Thus, the Icelandic prose Edda, or Art of Poetry, 
enumerates more than a hundred names for the sword, and a 
large number for the ship, and for other objects conspicuous in 
Northern life. Most of these were no doubt originally de- 
scriptive epithets, and their use suggested, in place of the 
generalisation of the leading properties or uses of the object 
which is expressed by its ordinary name, a sensuous image 
derived from some one of its characteristics, or a traditional 
recollection connected with the epithet, and thus incidentally 
increased the stock of imagery at the command of the poet. 
But when epithets become obsolete in daily speech, their ety- 
mological significance is soon forgotten, though they may con- 
tinue to be used in the dialect of verse merely as synonyms for 
each other— a means of avoiding too frequent repetition — or in 



94 TEST OF COnOUSNESS LEcr. III. 

order to employ a diction whicli is thouglit poetical, simply 
because it is not faniiiiar. 

The power of substituting a hundred epithets for the proper 
name of the object to which they are applied is not a proof of 
the copiousness of a language, even while the etymology of the 
epithets is remembered, and while they are consequently de- 
scriptive or suggestive; but when their origin is forgotten 
and they become synonyms, they are hindrances rather than 
helps, and even in poetical diction are little better than tinsel. 
To exemplify: to those who know thsit falchion is derived from 
the Latin falx, a sickle or scythe, the word suggests a,n image 
which sivovd does not excite, and therefore increases the pic- 
turesqueness of the poetical phrase in which it occurs. But to 
those who are ignorant of its etymology, it is simply what may 
be called a sensation-synonym for sword. It is recommended 
only by metrical adaptation, or simply by its unfamiliarity ; it 
adds absolutely nothing to the expressiveness of the diction 
which employs it, and in most cases is, both to writer and 
reader, simply fustian. In words of this class, it must be ad- 
mitted that the Anglo-Saxon is not particularly rich, and it 
may therefore be said to be inferior to the Icelandic in the 
metrical and rhetorical instrumentalities, the mechanical ap- 
pliances, of the poetic art. 

But when we come to the words which indicate different 
states, emotions, passions, mental processes, all, in short, that 
expresses the moral or intellectual man, the Anglo-Saxon vo- 
cabulary is eminently affluent. Hence Icelandic paints, while 
Anglo-Saxon describes and philosophises. The Icelandic saga 
is a pantomime, in which you see the actors in all the suc- 
cessive scenes of the drama, and infer their emotions, their 
aims, their motives, from their acts. The Anglo-Saxon gives 
utterance to the inward status, and discloses men's thoughts 
rather than depicts their material shape and their external 
actions. A better proof of the rich moral expressiveness of 
Anglo-Saxon than any citation of examples is found in the 



Lect. hi. power of composition 95 

fact, that those EngL'sh dramatists and poets, who have most 
clearly revealed the v^orkings of the heart and thrown most 
light into the deep abysses of the soul, have employed a diction 
composed in the largest measure of words legitimately de- 
scended from the ancient mother of the English speech.* It 
is in this inherited quality of moral revelation, which has been 
perpetuated and handed down from the tongue of the Grothic 
conquerors to its English first-born, that' lies in good part the 
secret of Shakspeare's power of bodying forth so much of man's 
internal being, and clothing so many of his mysterious sym- 
pathies in living words. 

Although, as I have remarked, Anglo-Saxon words not ap- 
parently of Gothic origin are not freely used as material for 
derivation and composition, the indigenous roots, on the other 
hand, exhibit a remarkable plasticity in the way of derivative 
formation, and a great aptitude for organic combination. Turner 
well illustrates this property of Anglo-Saxon by tables of pri- 
mitives with their secondary forms, and he enumerates more 
than twenty derivatives from the noun hyge (or hige) which 
signifies both mind and thought, that is, intellect quiescent, and 
intellect in action. Among these are verbs, secondary nouns, 
adjectives and adverbs, which, by various modifications, express 
not only mental states and mental acts, but a variety of moral 
emotions and affections. From mod, mind, temper, and 
gethanc, a word of allied original meaning, are given an 
equal number of derivatives ; so that from these three roots we 
have, by the aid of significant terminations and a few subordinate 
compound elements, not less than sixty words expressive of 
intellectual and moral conceptions.f There are, besides these, 
a great number of other almost equally fertile radicals be- 
longing to the same department of the vocabulary, and hence 
it will be obvious that its power of expression on moral and 
intellectual subjects must have been very considerable. Indeed 

* See First Series, Lecture VI. 

t See Illustration I., at end of this Lecture. 



96 ANGLO-SAXON GOSPELS Lect. IIL 

it would be difficult to find, in any language, a term indi- 
cative of moral state or emotion, or of intellectual action or 
perception, excepting, of course, the artificial terms belonging 
to the technical dialect of metaphysics, which is not at least 
approximately represented in the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary. 

The Anglo-Saxon translation of the Gospels well illustrates 
the capacities of the tongue for a varied and comprehensive 
range of expression. We know not the history, the author, or 
the precise date of this translation, but it belongs to the best 
period of the literature, and was made from the Vulgate, or 
more probably, perhaps, from some nearly similar Latin ver- 
sion.* Our authorised translation of the same books is remark- 
able for its freedom from Grreek, Latin, and Romance idioms ; 
but it falls in this respect far behind the Anglo-Saxon, which 
admits scarcely any but indigenous words, and substitutes native 
compounds, or specially framed derivatives, for those foreign 
words which the English translators have adopted from Hebrew, 
Greek, Latin, and French, and incorporated into the modern 
religious dialect. 

Although the Anglo-Saxon admitted of composition and de- 
rivation to a great extent, the number of its primitives, or at 
least of words treated as primitives because they were inca- 

* To determine what text the Anglo-Saxon transhition of the Evangelists followed, 
would require a far more critical examination of the various recensions of the Latin 
Gospels than I have had an opportunity to make. I will, however, notice a departiu-e 
from the common Vulgate reading in a passage which happens to be at this moment 
under my eye. The present authorised Vulgate version of the Lord's Prayer, in Mat- 
thew vi., gives the fourth (the ^rst 2>crsonal) petition thus : — panem nostrum super- 
substantialem da nobis hodie, supersubstantialem being used as the equivalent 
of the Greek iiriovaiov, while the same word in Luke xi. is rendered by quotidianum. 
In the first rendering, iiriova-ios is treated as a participial adjective from I'Trei^i = 
iiri iifil, in the latter, as from eireifii = iiri Itfit, Li the Anglo-Saxon Gospels, 
gedseghAvamliean, ordseghwamlican, daily, is employed in both Evangelists. 
The Lindisfarne text of Matthew has ofer wistlic, which etymologically should 
mean dainty, the Eush worth, dseghwsemlicu, and, as an alternative, ins to n- 
deulice, which latter word corresponds very closely to eTriovaios {iiri ei/ni). The 
•word used in the Lindisfarne text is the only one which can be regarded as a 
translation of super substantial! s. Ulfilas, who made his version from the 
Greek, employs sinteinSj daily. 



Lect. III. ANGLO-SAXON MONOSYLLABIC 07 

pable of resolution into simpler forms and meanings, was so 
large that tliere was less occasion for compounds than in most 
other languages of the same stock. This fact, together with 
the mode of inflection employed in the grammar, 9,ccounts for 
the monosyllabic character of the words. Compounds are built 
up of at least two syllabic elements, and must, except in some 
few cases of coalescence of syllables, be generally longer than 
primitives. Hence, other things being equal, the language 
which employs fewest compounds will have the shortest words. 
If the same speech varies or inflects its words for tense, person, 
number, and case, by what is called the strong method — that 
is, by change of letters of the radical, instead of addition of 
syllables, as when we make the past tense of the verb lead, not 
leaded, hut led — this is still another cause of greater brevity 
of words than is found in languages which inflect by augmen- 
tation. 

It is surprising how far we may carry literary composition in 
English, without introducing any word which requires more 
than a single emission of breath for its articulation. The late 
Professor Addison Alexander, of Princeton, has well illustrated 
this property of Anglo-Saxon, or rather Saxon-English, by tw^o 
spirited sonnets in which only words monosyllabic in pronun- 
ciation are employed. Some few of these, indeed, are Latin or 
Eomance, and some of the verbs are declined by the weak or 
augmentative inflection, but much the largest proportion of 
the words are native, and in our articulation those written 
with two syllables are habitually pronounced in one.* One of 
these monosyllabic sonnets is as follows : — 

* Sometliing of the same sort may "be done in French, and with greater facility 
in Catalan, because those languages, in naturalizing Latin words, often retain the 
stem or radical syllable only, and the Catalan very frequently drops even the 
final consonant of that. Ferreras wrote a Catalan poem of ninety-six seven-syllabled 
lines, consisting wholly of monosyllables, but in Eomance compositions of this sort 
there is much less variety of thought and imagery, and less flexibility and grace 
of expression, than in the English examples I have cited. See Illustration IL, 
at end of this lecture. 

H • 



98 MONOSYLLABIC COMPOSITION Lect. III. 

Think not that strength lies in the big round word, 

Or that the brief and plain must needs be weak. 

To whom can this be true, who once has heard 

The cry for help, the tongue that all men speak 

When want, or woe, or fear, is in the throat. 

So that each word gasped out is like a shriek 

Pressed from the sore heart, or a strange wild note 

Sung by some fay or fiend! There is a strength 

Which dies if stretched too far or spun too fine. 

Which has more height than breadth, more depth than length. 

Let but this force of thought and speech be mine. 

And he that will may take the sleek, fat, phrase, 

Which glows but burns not, though it beam and shine — 

Light, but no heat — a flash, but not a blaze ! 

These ingenious productions are interesting, not as possessing 
high poetical merit in themselves, or as models to be followed 
in the selection of words, but because they open curious views 
of the composition and structure of our native tongue and its 
related dialects, and because they well illustrate what is con- 
sidered as the general modern tendency of all human speech to 
simplification of form, and to a less mechanical and artificial 
syntactical system. Truly able writers select their words, not 
with reference to their historical origin, but solely for the sake 
of their adaptation to the effect aimed at on the mind of the 
reader or hearer, and he who deliberately uses an Anglo-Saxon 
instead of a more expressive Eomance word, is as much a 
pedant, as if his diction were composed, in the largest possible 
proportion, of words borrowed from the vocabulary of Rome. 

The masters of the English tongue know that each of its 
great branches has its special adaptations. The subject, in very 
man}^ instances, as especially in metaphysical, philological, 
critical or sesthetical discussion, prescribes and compels a diction 
composed, in a liberal percentage, of G-reek and Latin imme- 
diate or secondary derivatives ; and this not always because the 
Anglo-Saxon wanted corresponding words, but often because 
they have become obsolete.- Hence an author, who, in a dis- 



Lect. III. EEYIVAL OF OBSOLETE WORDS 99 

course or a poem designed for popular effect, would speak 
almost pure Anglo-Saxon, might, very likely, in treating the 
themes to which I have just referred, find it convenient to 
exceed even the Latinism of Johnson. 

There is at present a very strong tendency to the revival of 
obsolete English and Anglo-Saxon words, and the effect of an 
increasing study of our ancient literature is very visible in the 
style of the best prose, and more especially, poetic compositions 
of the present day. Our vocabulary is capable of great enrich- 
ment from the store-house of the ancient Anglican speech, and 
the revival of a taste for Anglo-Saxon and early English 
literature will exert a very imijortant influence on the intellec- 
tual activity of the next generation. The pedantry of individuals 
may, no doubt, as the same affectation has done in Germany and 
Holland*, carry puristic partialities to a length as absurd as 
lipogrammatism in literature, but the general familiarity of 
literary men with classic and Continental philology will always 
supply a corrective, and no great danger is to be apprehended in 
this direction. In any event, the evil will be less than was 
experienced from the stilted classicism of Johnson, or the Grallic 
imitations of Gibbon. The recovery of forgotten native words 
will affect English something in the same way, though not in 
the same direction, as did the influx of French words in the 
fourteenth century, and of Latin in the sixteenth ; and the gain 
will be as real as it was in those instances. But it is not by an 
accession of words alone, that the study of Anglo-Saxon and 
ancient English literature is destined to affect that of the 
present and coming generations. The recovery of the best 
portion of the obsolete vocabulary v^ill bring with it, not only 
new expressiveness of diction, but something of the vigour and 
freshness of thought and wealth of poetic imagery which usually 
accompanies the revival of a national spirit in literature. 

Although the Anglo-Saxon is the bubbling well-spring whose 

* See First Series, Lecture IX. 
H 2 



100 ANGLO-SAXON LITERATURE Lect. III. 

sweet waters have given a specific flavour to the broader and 
more impetuous current of our maternal speech — and therefore 
some knovJedge of the more primitive is essential to a com- 
prehension of the history of the derivative language — yet the 
literature of ancient Anglia stands in no such relation to that 
of modern England. Beowulf, and the songs of Caedmon and 
Cynewulf, and even the relics of the gTeat Alfred, were buried 
out of sight and forgotten long before any work, now recognised 
as distinctively English in spirit, had been conceived in the 
imagination of its author. The earliest truly English writers 
borrowed neither imagery nor thought nor plan, seldom even 
form, from older native models, and hence Anglo-Saxon lite- 
rature, so far from being the mother, was not even the nurse of 
the infant genius which opened its eyes to the sun of England 
five centuries ago. The history and criticism of Anglo-Saxon 
literature are therefore almost foreign to our subject ; but were 
they more nearly related to it, I should be obliged to exclude 
them from present consideration, because the illustrations I 
must adduce would be borrowed from a tongue generally un- 
known to my audience, and no translation could fairly represent 
them. 

Although the literary character of Anglo-Saxon writers had 
no appreciable influence on the spirit, little on the form, of 
early English authorship, yet certain traits of the specific intel- 
lectual and social life of the Anglian people survived for a time, 
and manifested themselves in the nascent literature of the 
mixed race which had succeeded to the name and place of the 
Grothic immigrant. Hence, some general remarks on the lead- 
ing characteristics of the poetry and prose of the Anglo-Saxons, 
considered as an expression of the mind and heart of that 
nation, will not be altogether out of place. The poetry of the 
Anglo-Saxons, so far as we know it by its extant remains, is 
chiefly sacred, or at least religious in subject, and, though not 
remarkable for plan or invention, is very elevated in tone, and 
exhibits much nobleness of sentiment and beauty of detail 



Lect. 111. BEOWFLP 101 

The poems of the early Christian era among the Scandinavians 
have, with some remarkable exceptions, not much merit except 
that of skill in overcoming the difficulties imposed by highly 
artificial forms and canons of metrical composition. In the 
higher excellences of poetry, the celebrated epic, Beowulf, ranks 
perhaps first among the monuments of Anglo-Saxon literature, 
but in subject, plan, and treatment, it differs so widely from 
the general character of the versified compositions in the lan- 
guage, that it cannot be considered as a product of the same 
genius or the same influences which have given form and spirit 
to the other literary efforts of that people. It is, I think, un- 
questionably of Continental and heathen origin, though in 
passing through the hands of Christian revisers and copyists, it 
has undergone the modifications necessary to render it Ifess 
objectionable to the tastes and opinions of a converted nation. 
We cannot affirm it to be a translation, because we have no 
knowledge of any Continental source from which it could have 
been taken. In its machinery, it has many points of re- 
semblance to Scandinavian mythic poetry, and though there 
exists no Old-Northern poem of very similar character, there are 
prose sagas — generally indeed of much later date — which in 
tone and treatment are not unlike the story of Beowulf. Its 
scenery and personages are Danish, and the whole poem be- 
longs both in form and essence to the Scandinavian, not to the 
Grermanic school of art. The substance of Beowulf, either as 
saga or as poem, came over, I believe, with some of the con- 
querors ; and its existence in Anglo-Saxon literature I consider 
as one among the many proofs of an infusion of the Scandi- 
navian element in the immigration.* 

The poetry of the Anglo-Saxons is to be comprehended only 

* The fact, that not the most remote allusion to the poem of Beowulf or to the 
story it embalms has yet been discovered in any Anglo-Saxon author, proves that 
it Oftnnot have been generally known to the scholars of that nation, and it is not 
improbable that its un-Germanic character rendered it so little acceptable to a 
people chiefly of Teutonic origin, that it never obtained much circiilation among 
them. 



102 THE NORTHMEN Lect. III. 

tlirougli a knowledge of their language, and I must refer those 
who are contented with merely general views of its character to 
the many translations and critical works on the subject which 
English and German scholars have recently produced. I shall, 
however, in bringing out the prominent traits of early English 
literature, as they from time to time develop themselves, have 
occasion to notice points of contrast and of coincidence between 
the products of Saxon and of English genius, and to present 
them more effectively than I could now do by a more extended 
special criticism. But I will here again refer, somewhat in 
detail, to an important deficiency in Anglo-Saxon literature, 
which I have already noticed as characteristic also of early 
English letters — the want of a vernacular historical school, 
which that people seems never to have possessed. 

The contrast in this respect between the Anglo-Saxons and 
the Scandinavian Northmen, who were nearly allied to them in 
speech, and probably in blood, is very remarkable. The North- 
men were men of action, enterprising merchants, navigators, 
hunters, soldiers of fortune, leading the van of every battle 
from Norway to Byzantium, subduers of savage and of effemi- 
nate, exhausted races, colonists, legislators, conquerors over the 
rigours of climate and the forces of inanimate nature. These 
heroic qualities v^ere perpetuated in the energetic adventurers 
who made themselves masters of Normandy, were infused by 
them into their Grallic, Eomance, and Francic subjects, and 
finally became the leaven, by which the now torpid elements of 
the Anglo-Saxon character were thrown into a new fermenta- 
tion, and stirred to that marvellous physical and moral ac- 
tion which has made the English nation so long foremost among 
men. 

The admiration felt by such a people for the high qualities, 
which alone had rendered possible the great exploits of their 
kings and chieftains, naturally disposed the Northmen to the 
preservation of the memory of heroic achievements, and to an 
interest in the personal history of men distinguished for prowess 



Lect. III. THE SAXON CHRONICLE 103 

and success. The saga-man, or reciter, was everywliere a 
favoured guest, and the skill with which these artists con- 
structed the plan of their historical, or rather biographical, 
narrations, and filled in the details, has never been surpassed in 
the annals of any people. 

The Anglo-Saxons, on the other hand, when by a series of 
spasmodic efforts they had expelled the Britons from their 
native homes, and established themselves in the enjoyment of 
the comparative abundance and comfort which the milder 
climate and more genial soil of England afforded, seem to have 
relapsed into a life of inglorious ease. If they were ever roused 
to deeds of vigorous action and martial daring, it was in strifes 
among themselves about the division of the spoil they had won, 
or in the defence of their new homes against invasion and 
plunder by the successive swarms of hardy and hungry warriors, 
whom the North was ever sending forth to tear from them the 
booty which they had wrung from the imbecile Celt. They 
had ceased to be an active, and had become a contemplative 
people ; and so insignificant were the contests between the 
Saxon kinglings, recorded in the meagre native annals, that, 
as Milton says, they were not ^ more worth to chronicle than 
the wars of kites or crows flocking and fighting in the air.' 
The life a^nd reign of Alfred form a brilliant exception to 
the uninteresting character of Anglo-Saxon history ; but in 
general, vapid, empty, and uncritical as are the Saxon chro- 
niclers, they are, in the words of the same writer, 'worthy 
enough for the things they register.' Such being the true cha- 
racter of the Anglo-Saxon secular historians, it is strange that 
national pride should have led English critics to attach such 
extravagant value to the series of annals generally known by 
the name of the Saxon Chronicle. 

The Saxon Chronicle is a dry chronological record, noting in 
the same lifeless tone important and trifling events, without the 
slightest tinge of dramatic colour, of criticism in weighing evi-» 



104 THE SAXON CHRONICLE Lect. Ill, 

dence, or of judgment in the selection of the facts narrated. 
The following extracts are fair specimens : — 

An. cccc.XLix. In this year Martian and Valentinian succeeded to 
the empire and reigned seven winters. And in their days Hengest and 
Horsa, invited by Wyrtgeom, king of the Britons, sought Britain, on 
the shore which is named Ypwines fleot ; first in support of the Bri- 
tons, but afterwards they fought against them. 

An. cccc.LXXiii. In this year Hengest and .^sc fought against the 
Welsh and took countless booty ; and the Welsh fled from the Angles 
as fire. 

An. D.ix. In this year St. Benedict the abbot, father of all monks, 
went to heaven. 

An. DC.xvi. In this year ^thelberht, king of the Kentish people, 
died ; he reigned lvi winters ; and Eadbald, his son, succeeded to the 
kingdom, who contemned his baptism and lived in heathen manner, so 
that he had his father's relict to wife. Then Laurentius, who was 
archbishop of Kent, was minded that he would go south over sea and 
forsake all. But by night the Apostle Peter came to him, and severely 
scourged him, because he would so forsake God's flock ; and bade him 
to go to the king and preach to him the true faith ; and he did so and 
the king was converted, and was baptized. In this king's day, Lau- 
rentius, who was in Kent after Augustine, died on the ivth day of the 
nones of February, and was buried beside Augustine. After him Mel- 
litus succeeded to the Archbishopric, who had been bishop of London. 
And within five years after, Mellitus died. Then after him Justus 
succeeded to the archbishopric, Avho had been bishop of Rochester, and 
hallowed Eomanus bishop thereto. 

An. DC.LXXi. In this year was the great destruction of birds. 

An. DCC.xciii. In this year dire forwarnings came over the land of 
the Northumbrians, and miserably terrified the people: there were 
excessive whirhvinds and lightnings, and fiery dragons were seen flying 
in the air„ A great famine soon followed these tokens ; and a little 
after that, in the same year, on the vith of the Ides of January, the 
havoc of heathen men miserably destroyed God's church at Lindis- 
farne, through rapine and slaughter. And Sicga died on the viiith of 
the kal. of March.* 

Sometimes the events of a year, especially in the later parts 

• I adopt Thorpe's translation in the Eer. Brit. Med. Aev. Scriptores. 



Lect. III. ANGLO-SAXON LIFE 105 

of the chronicle, are extended over a page or two, but, in these 
cases, we have generally a mere accumulation of facts as barren 
and as insignificant as those I have cited, or, perhaps, an ac- 
count of the foundation or endowment of a monastery, the 
institution of a bishop or the relations between the English 
church and the see of Rome. Of course, in all this, there .s 
occasionally a fact which gives us a faint glimpse of the actual 
life of the English man and woman, as for exa^mple the nar- 
rative of the assassination of King Cynewulf in 755 (properly 
784), and there are, here and there, notices of unusual astro- 
nomical and meteorological phenomena ; but taking the chro- 
nicle as a whole, I know not where else to find a series of annals 
which is so barren of all human interest, and for all purposes 
of real history so worthless. And yet Ingram, the editor of the 
second edition of this work, declares in his preface that ^philo- 
sophically considered, this ancient record is the second great 
phenomenon in the history of mankind,' the first place being 
generously awarded to ' the sacred annals of the Jews.' After 
such commendation upon a work so destitute of merit and of 
value, we must admrt that the Danish critic spoke in terms of 
great moderation when he affirmed that, as compared with the 
Heimskringla of the Icelander Snorri Sturluson, the history of 
Herodotus w^as the work of a bungler, and that of John Miiller 
DO better than a first essay. 

From the w^ant of historical talent among the Anglo-Saxons, 
we know little of their social life, and of the practical working 
of their institutions ; but their literature, and especially their 
legislation, are those of a people by no means advanced in social 
culture, and their art seems to have always remained at a 
very humble level.* The specific causes of their decay we are 

* Anglo-Saxon writers ascribe to their countrymen mucli skill in some of tlie 
minor arts, especially those subservient to the material pomp of the Eomisli 
"worship ; but the surviving specimens of their handy^'ork do not give by any 
means an exalted impression of their abilities in this respect. It is disputed 
whether any remains of Anglo-Saxon architecture still exist, and the testimony is 
strong to show that their churches and other public as well as j)rivate buildings 



106 LANGUAGES INFLECTED AND UNINFLECTED Lect. III. 

unable to assign, but it is evident that at the time of the Con- 
quest, the people and their literature were in a state of languish- 
ing depression, which was enlivened and cheered by no symptom 
of returning life and vigour. 

The Norman Conquest did not cause, it only hastened, the 
downfall of the Saxon commonwealth, and by infusing the ele- 
ments of a new life into an exhausted race, it restored its organs 
once more to healthy action and thus rescued it from sinking 
into the state of utter barbarism to which it was rapidly tending. 

In order more clearly to exhibit the relations between the old 
and the new features of the speech of England, and to explain the 
process of transition from that which was to that which is, it 
will be necessary to devote a few words to a general account of 
the grammatical structure of Anglo-Saxon. 

Of languages considered as grammatical individuals, there 
are, theoretically, two great classes ; (a), those in which the 
syntactical relations of words are determined by coincidence or 
correspondence of form, the forms being varied according to 
number, person, case, mood, tense, gender, degree of com- 
parison and other conditions, as for example, when by adding 
an s to the indeterminate or stem form of the verb give, we 
make it an indicative present third person singular, gives; and 
(h), those where these relations are indicated by position, auxili- 
aries and particles, the words themselves remaining unvaried, 
as when we make the same verb, give, a future by placing the 
auxiliary will before it. Practically, however, there are few, 
if any, speeches in which either of these syntactical systems is 
fully carried out, and the two are almost everywhere more or 
less intermixed. All assignments of languages, therefore, to 
either class, must be considered only as approximate and com- 
parative statements of the foot. 

were at best liumble structures. Of all the works of man's liands, architecture is 
the best test of the artistic capacity of a people, and we may be sure that those 
•who have never raised a worthy church or temple have never gone beyond medio- 
crity in the inferior arts. 



Lect. III. A^^aLO-SAXON GEAMMAR 107 

The Anglo-Saxon, partly, no doubt, in consequence of its 
composite structure, partakes largely of the characteristics of 
both classes ; but, as compared with modern English, its syntax 
may be considered as inflectional, a,nd in a considerable degree 
independent of position, the sense being often equally une- 
quivocal, whether the words of a period are arranged in one 
order or another. The inflections of the verb were more precise 
in the indication of number, and, though in a less degree, of 
person than of time or condition ; still they vfere not sufnciently 
so to allow of the omission of the nominative pronoun. Aux- 
iliary verbs were used much as in modern English for the 
expression of accidents, yet they were employed vfith. greater 
reserve, and w^e can consequently, by means of auxiliaries, 
express in English a greater variety of conditions and qualifica- 
tions of the act or state indicated by the verb than the Anglo- 
Saxons were able to do. It is singular that though there 
existed a simple as well as compound past tenses, there was no 
mode of expressing the future of verbs by either inflection or 
auxiliaries, and the Saxon could only say, I give to-day, I give 
to-morrow, not I shall or ivill give to-morrow. This was un- 
doubtedly a defect, and we have improved upon the Anglo- 
Saxon S3mtax by developing future auxiliaries out of the inde- 
pendent verbs shall and ^uill, the former of which originally 
expressed duty or necessity, the latter intention or desire, with- 
out reference to time. 

The want of the Saxon verbal inflections for number and 
person can hardly be considered an imperfection in the English 
language; for inflection though it may reduce the number of 
words, gives no greater precision, but on the contrary, less force 
of expression in these respects than may be obtained by the 
use of auxiliaries, pronouns, and other determinatives.* In 

^ The employment of the nominative pronoun was felt by the Latins tliem- 
gelyes to strengthen the force of expression, and therefore, though the distinction 
of persons is very marked in the inflections of the Latin verb, they often made it 
more emphatic by inti'oducing the pronoun, as we do by re-duplicating it, thougu 
in another form. Thus the Eoman would say, not simply vidvi, (I) saw, but ego 
vidi, or even egomei vidi, in cases where ws should say, I saio {it) myself. 



108 ANaLO-SAXON GRAMMAR Lect. IIL 

syntaxes where the pronoun is always expressed, as it is in 
Anglo-Saxon and English except in the imperative, the distinc- 
tion of number and person is wholly superfluous. Thus, where 
a foreigner says, in his broken English, he give, instead of he 
gives, we understand him perfectly. The omission of the s, 
the sign of the singular number and third person, occasions no 
embarrassment, and it would be no detriment to English syntax 
if we ourselves were to omit it altogether. But in Latin and 
Italian, where the pronoun is very often omitted, a mistake in 
the characteristic ending confounds the listener. 

So the limitation of particular past or future inflections, or 
even auxiliary combinations, to specific portions of time, is a 
source of constant embarrassment in the use of words, without 
any corresponding logical or rhetorical benefit. Thus the French 
rule, strict conformity to which requires us to say: — elle 
chant a hier au lever du soleil, she sang yesterday at 
sunrise, but, elle a chante ce matin au lever du soleil, 
she has sung this morning at sunrise, is a blemish in the 
syntax, not an advantage. In these and other like phrases, the 
time is really "fixed, not by the form of -the verb, but by the 
words yesterday and this onorning, and the distinction between 
the tenses has, in their present use, no solid foundation ; whereas 
in English the difference between the preterite and the com- 
pound, he sang, and he has sung, is a logical one. The conse- 
quence is that in French practice, the grammatical distinction 
has been found too subtle to be observed, and the compound is 
very frequently employed when the preterite should be. 

Another difference between Anglo-Saxon and English is, that 
the latter has nearly got rid of the perplexing and unprofitable 
distinction of grammatical gender. In Anglo-Saxon, as in 
Grreek, Latin and Grerman, nouns have three genders, and these 
do not depend upon sex, even in the case of organised beings 
capable of being thus distinguished. This confusion is, how- 
ever, not carried so far in Anglo-Saxon as in Grerman, where 
Frauenzimmer, woman, is neuter, and Mannsperson, a 



Lect. III. GRAMMATICAL GENDEK 109 

Tnale person, is feminine, or as in Swedish, where menniskja, 
man in the abstract, is feminine; but still the Saxon meed en, 
onr modern maiden, is, like the Grerman corresponding mad- 
chen, a neuter, and in the case of inanimate objects, to which 
genders are conventionally ascribed, they are applied in a very 
different way from our own. Thus in Anglo-Saxon, as also in 
Icelandic, the word for moon, mona, is masculine, that for 
sun, sunne, feminine.* 

It may be remarked, in passing, that the theory of gram- 
matical gender has not been much attended to by most phi- 
lologists, and, so far as I am aware, has not been satisfactorily 
discussed by any. The distinction of gender, however arbi- 
trarily it may be applied — and there are few languages where 
it is not much more so than in English — seems to be more 
tenaciously and constantly adhered to than any other gram- 
matical peculiarity. In Grerman and French, where the genders 
appear to be almost wholly conventional, mistakes in gender 
are rarer than any other error in speech, and in all languages 
with grammatical gender, the blunders of foreigners in this 
respect are more ludicrous to a native ear than any others what- 
ever, even when they occur in pronouns or in the names of 
inanimate objects. We cannot without a smile hear a French- 

^ In German, the diminutives are neuter, without regard to sex. Vater 
and Mutter, Bruder and Schwester, father, mother, brother and sister, lose 
their sexuality and become neuter in taking the affectionate or coaxing forms, 
Vaterchen, Miitterchen, Bruderlein, Schwesterlein. So far is this 
carried that the distinctive designations of sex in the lower animals, Mannchen 
and Weibchen, male and female, are grammatically neuter, and when the heroine 
of a popular tale has a pet diminutive name, as Mariechen, the neuter pronoun 
es, it, is used instead of the feminine, in speaking of her. In Italian, the dimi- 
nutive of feminine nouns is often masculine, which here represents the Latin ' 
neuter, that gender not being recognised in Italian grammar, and la tavola, the 
table, may have iltavolino, the little table, for its diminutive. 

In the young of animals, the general external form marks the distinction of sex 
much less plainly than in the adult. This is doubtless the reason why the neuter 
pronoun it is so commonly applied to infants and other young creatures in 
English, and it may be from analogy with this fact that the diminutives I have 
mentioned have been made neuter. There are many reasons, however, for be- 
lieving that grammatical gender was originally wholly independent of sex. 



110 GHAMMATICAL GENDER Lect. III. 

man speak of a woman as he, or read the concluding sentence 
of the preface to the Portuguese Guide of Fonseca and Caroline, 
in which the authors, after expressing the hope that their book 
may secure acceptance with studious persons, add : * and espe- 
cially of youth, at which we dedicate him, particularly.'* But 
to us, who in general treat inanimate obiects as without gender, 
it is hard to see why it should provoke the mirth of a French- 
man, when a foreigner, in speaking French, makes the noun 
t ab 1 e a masculine instead of a feminine. 

The Anglo-Saxon adjectives also had three genders, though 
these were by no means accurately or uniformly discriminated, 
and they had that farther inconvenience, which beginners find 
such a stumbling-block in German grammar, of distinct de- 
finite and indefinite forms — a subtlety which answers no pur- 
pose but to embarrass and confound. The adjectives v/ere 
compared by inflection, and both adjective and noun had several 
inflections for case, but these were not so well discriminated as 
to add essentially to precision of expression ; and I do not know 
that English syntax is in any respect more equivocal or am- 
biguous for the want of them. 

Upon the whole, I am inclined to think that while our pre- 
sent syntax is in many respects more direct, precise and simple 
than the ancient, the Anglo-Saxon grammar had no advantages 
over the modern English but these : first, greater liberty in the 
arrangement of words in the period, which is an important 
rhetorical convenience, both with respect to force of expression 
and to melodious sequence of sound ; and, second, a somewhat 
greater abundance of rhymes, as well as variety of metrical feet, 
which, in inflected languages, facilitate poetical composition and 
relieve the ear from the perpetual recurrence of the same 



* Novo Guia da Conversa9ao, em Portuguez e Inglez. The New Guide of 
the Conyersation in Portuguese and English, por Jose da Ponseca e Pedro Caro- 
line. Paris, 1855. 

This is, I imagine, the most ridiculous collection of blunders anywhere to be 
found in a single volume. 



Lect. Hi. ENGLISH GKAMMAR 111 

pairs of rhyming words now become so wearisome in English 
poetry.* 

English grammar is now too settled, if not in its forms, at 
least in its tendencies, to be likel}^ to revive any of the obsolete 
characteristics of Anglo-Saxon inflection, but we may possibly 
restore, for poetical purposes, the old English infinitive and 
plural verbal endings in en, as to loven for to love, they loven 
for they love, which Spenser did not scruple freely to use, 
though in his time they were quite obsolete in prose. Lan- 
guage seldom goes back in its forms, though the re-animation 
of seemingly dead words is common in all literatures. The 
freedom of syntactical arrangement which was possessed by the 
Anglo-Saxon is irrecoverably gone, and it^is the only one of our 
losses for which modern syntax gives us no equivalent. But 
this was a rhetorical, not a logical advantage; for the usual 
order of words in Anglo-Saxon did not conform to any natural 
or so called logical succession, and therefore — though it might 
make a period more effective, in a spoken harangue, by putting 
the most stirring words in the most prominent positions, or 
where, according to the national periodic intonation, the em- 
phasis naturally falls — yet it did not make the grammatical 
construction clearer, but, on the contrar}^, rather tended to 
involve and obscure it.f 

The principal philological gains to be expected from the 
study of Anglo-Saxon are, a more thorough acquaintance v/ith 
English etymology and a better understanding of the radical lin- 
guistic principles which are the foundation of the grammatical 
structure of our mother tongue ; and we hliall gain, as I have 
already remarkea, a considerable adaition of expressive native 
words to the present vocabulary and a corresponding enrich- 
ment of our literary diction. That the revival of words of the 
Gothic stock will supplant or expel much of the Eomance por- 
tion of our modern English is neither to be expected nor de- 

* See First Series, Lectures XXIII. and XXIV. 
t See First Series, Lecture XVI., pp. 352, 358. 



112 REVIVAL OP ANGLO-SAXON WOEDS Lect. III. 

sired. Social life in our time has become too many-sided, it 
appropriates too much of the new and foreign, and resuscitates 
too much of the departed and the dormant, to be content with 
anything short of the utmost largeness of expression. Images, 
if not ideas, are multiplying more rapidly than appropriate 
names for them, and our vocabulary will continue to extend as 
long as our culture advances. 

The view I have taken of Anglo-Saxon grammar is extremely 
general, it would be nearer the truth to say, superficial, but 
anything of minuteness and fulness would be inconsistent with 
oral exhibition, and would, moreover, consume such an amount 
of time that too little would be left for the discussion of points 
of more immediate interest. A comparison of a few periods 
from the narrative of Ohther in King Alfred's Orosius, and from 
the preface to Alfred's Boethius, with English translations, 
will serve better than more of formal detail, to illustrate the 
most important differences between the two languages * ; and in 
future lectures I shall endeavour to convey a general notion of 
the gradual processes of linguistic change, by presenting a 
psalm and a chapter of the Anglo-Saxon Gospels with a series 
of versions of the same in the successive stages of English. Be- 
fore proceeding to the comparative analysis, it is necessary to 
present a few paradigms of the principal parts of speech in 
Anglo-Saxon ; the other grammatical peculiarities of the lan- 
guage may be gradually brought out as we advance in the de- 
composition and construction of sentences.! 

* See Illustration IV., at end of this Lecture. 
t See Illustration III., at end of this Lecture. 



NOTES AJSro ILLUSTRATIONS. 



I. (p. 95.) 

AKGLO-SAXON POWER OF DEEIYATION AND DEVELOPMENT OP 
RADICAL SIGNIFICATION OF WORDS. 

From Turner's History of the Anglo-Saxons, Appendix L 

Ancient Noun: 

hyge or Hige, mind or thought. 

Secondary meaning: — care, diligence, study, 
hoga, care, 
hogu, care, industry, effort. 

Adjectives, being the noun so applied: 
hige, diligent, studious, attentive, 
hoga, prudent, solicitous. 

Verbs from the noun : 

hogian, to meditate, to study, to think, to be wise; to be 
anxious: and hence, to groan. 

, -^ ° ' I to study, to be solicitous, to endeavour, 
hyggan, ) •^' ' 

hicgan, ] to study, to explore, to seek vehemently, to en- 

hycgan, j deavour, to struggle. 

Secondary noun derived from the verb : 
hogung, care, effort, endeavour. 

Secondary nouns compounded of the ancient noun and another: 

higecr£eft, acuteness of mind, 
big el east, negligence, carelessness, 
higesorga, anxieties, mental griefs. 

hogascip, ) , 

, ° / M- prudence. 
hogoscip, j ^ 

hygeleast, folly, madness, scurrility. 

bygesceaft, the mind or thought-. 

I 



114 KOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. III. 

Adjectives composed of the ancient noun and a meaning word: 
liygelease, void of mind, foolishx. 

, . ^ ' !■ magnanimous, excellent in mind. 

1 r ' i. [ prudent, 

hogofeart, j ^ 

liogfull, anxious, full of care, 
liige frod, wise, prudent in mind, 
hige leas, negligent, incurious, 
hige Strang, strong in mind, 
liige thancle, cautious, provident, thoughtful. 
Adverbs from the adjective: 

higeleaslice, negligently, incuriously, 
hog full lice, anxiously. 
Ancient Noun: 

Mod, the mind; also, passion, irritability. 

Verb : 

m o d i a n, "j to b e high-minded, 

modigan, ^ to rage, 

modgian, J to swell. 

Adjectives composed of the noun and another word or syllables 

modeg, "I irritable. 

mo dig, J angry, proud. 

modful, full of mind, irritable. 

modga, elated, proud, distinguished. 

modhwata, fervid in mind. 

modilic, magnanimous. 

mod leas, weak-minded, pusillanimous. 

mod stathol, firm-minded. 

modthwer, patient in mind, meek, mild 
Secondary nouns composed of the ancient noun and some other : 

mod gethanc, thoughts of the mind, council. 

mod gethoht, strength of mind, reasoning. 

mod gewinne, conflicts of mind. 

modes mynla, the affections of the mind, the inclinations, 

modhete, heat of mind, anger. 

modleaste, folly, pusillanimity, slothfuhiess. 

mo dn esse, pride. 

modsefa, the intellect, sensation, intelligence. 

mod sorg, grief of mind. 



Lect. III. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 115 

Secondary nouns, of later formation, composed of an adjective and 
another noun : 

modignesse, ) ^. -i • 

-, . }■ moodiness, pride, animosity, 

modmesse, ) 717 j 

mod seocnesse, sickness of mind. 

mod statholnysse, firmness of mind, fortitude. 

mod snmnesse, concord. 

mod thwernesse, patience, meelaiess. 

Adverb formed from the adjective: 
modiglice, proudly, angrily. 

Ancient Noun: 

^ '•- h the mind, f^enius, intellect, sense. 
Gewit, j J JD ) J 

Secondary meaning; — wisdom, prudence. 
Noun applied as an adjective: 

._, ' I wise, skilful. 
wite, ) ' 

gewit a, conscious; hence, a witness. 

"Verb formed from the noun : 

wit an, to know, to perceive, 
gewit an, to understand, 
witegian, to prophesy. 

Adjectives composed of the ancient noun, and an additional syllable 
or word : 

wittig, wise, skilled, ingenious, prudent, 
ge-witig, knov/ing. 
ge-witleas, ignorant, foolish, 
ge- wittig, intelligent, conscious, 
ge-witseoc, ill in mind, demoniac, 
witol, wittol, wise, knowing. 

Secondary nouns formed of the ancient noun and another notin: 
w i t e d o m, the knowledge of j udgment, prediction, 
witega, a prophet, 
witegung, prophecy, 
wite saga, a prophet, 
ge-witleast, folly, madness, 
ge-wit loca, the mind, 
ge- witness, witness. 

12 



116 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. IIL 

g e - w i t s c i p e, witness. 

■wite-clofe, trifles. 

witsord, the answer of tlie wise. 

Nouns of more recent date, Laving been formed otit of the adjectives: 
gewitseocness, insanity, 
witigdom, knowledge, wisdom, prescience, 
witolnesse, knowledge, wisdom. 

Secondary adjective, formed upon tlie secondaiy noun: 
witedomlic, prophetical. 

Conjunctions ; 

witedlice, ) . t t ^ , , , 

•j. JT r indeed, for, but, to-wit. 
witodlice, j J ? > 

Adverbs formed from participles and adjectives: 

witendlice, ] . . , 

wittiglice, j ^^^^^"^^^^S 7* 

Ancient Noun: 



n c 1 

' [ the mind, thought, opinion. 



Ge-thanc, 
Ge-tho 

thane, the will. 

thonc, the thought. 



Secondary meaning : an act of the will, or thanks. 

^1 .' \ a council. 
ge-thing,J 

And from the consequence conferred from sitting at the council came 

ge-thincth, honour, dignity. 
Verbs formed from the noun : 

thin can, ] to think, to conceive, to feel, to reason, to con- 

thencan, j sider. 

ge-thencan, | ^^ j,^;„,^_ 

ge-thengcan, j 

thancian 



^, . [to thank, 

ge-thancianj ) 



thingan, to address, to speak, to supplicate, 
ge-thancmetan, to consider. 

Adjectives formed from the ancient noim : 

^, ,' [ thouditful, meditative, cautions. 

. thoncol, } ° 

ge-thancol, mindful. 



Lect. iil notes and illusteations 117 

tliancful, thankful, ingenious, content, 
thancwurtli, grateful, 
thancolmod, provident, wise. 

Secondary nouns formed from tlie verb : 

ge-thoht, } ^'"'^'"S. thought, 
ge-theaht, council, 
ge-tlieahtere, councillor, 
thancung, thanking, 
thancmetuncg, deliberation. 
Secondary verb from secondary noim : 
ge-tlieaktian, to consult. 

More recent noim from this verb : 

ge- the a thing, council, consultation. 
Another secondary verb : 

ymbethencan, to think about any tiling. 
Adjective from secondary verb : 

ge-theahtendlic, consulting. ^ 

Adverb from adjective : 

thancwurthlice, gratefully. 

It is evident that in this list, which might be considerably enlarged 
from the same roots, different orthographical forms are occasionally 
given as different words, and the proficient in Anglo-Saxon will see 
that there is room for criticism in several other respects. But I choose 
to print my author as I find him in the Philadelphia edition of 1841, 
making no changes in the words, except, to lessen the chances of typo- 
graphical mistake, the substitution of the modern English for the Saxon 
character. There is always something to be learned from even the 
errors of a scholar, — at least the lesson of humility, when we consider 
our own liability to similar shortcomings. 



II. (p. 97.) 

MONOSYLLABIC CATALAN POETET. 

The rarity of Catalan books in America justifies me, I think, in 
printing a part of this poem, which Ballot y Torres, who quotes it in 



118 KOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. III. 

the preface to his Gramatica y Apologia de la Llcngua Catlialana, 
thus introduces : 

' He ja dit tambe que ab dificultat se podra trobar altra llengua, que 
sia mes breu y concisa que la nostra ; y axo es per la abundancia que 
te de monossillabos, com es de veurer en las seguents quartetas, que 
compongue lo numen poeticli de Don Ignasi Ferreras, doctor en medi- 



QUAETETAS. 

A Deu, im en tres, y al Fill fet horn. 

Un sol Deu, que tot ho pot, 
Es lo qui es, un ser en tres : 
No son tres Deus, un sol es 
Lo Deu del eel, que es en tot. 

Si ab est un sol ser tres son, 
Com pot ser no mes que un Den, 
Qui fa lo foch y la neu, 
' La Hum, los eels y lo mon ? 

Un sol es ; puix a ser tres, 
Fins a tres sers se han de dar ; 

Y si es un sol ser, es clar 
Que es un sol Deu y no mes, 

Es ell lo qui ha fet lo Hum, 
Lo blanch, lo foch y lo net, 
Per qui dels pits surt la llet, 
Per qui del foch ix lo fum. 

Es del mon y dels eels rey, 
Qui tot ho te dins sa ma : 
Tot lo que vol ell, se fa, 
Que tot quant vol es sa Hey. 

Al torn seu son tots los sants, 

Y prop d'eU son los chors nou, 

Y en un sol chor la veu se on, 
De sant, sant, sant, en fins cants, 

etc. etc. etc. 



Lect. III. KOTES AND ILLUST£IATI03TS ll9 

III. (p. 112.) 
ANaiO-SAXON INFLECTIONAL PARADIGMS. 

THE AETICLE. 

Most grammarians agree that the Anglo-Saxon had neither definite 
nor indefinite article. Klipstein treats the declinable se, seo, p£et, 
and the indeclinable ]>e, both of which are generally considered pro- 
perly pronouns, as definite articles, but he denies that there was an in- 
definite. In the early stages of the language, for example in Beowulf, 
the poems of Casdmon, and other ancient monuments, the nouns are 
commonly construed, as in Latin, without a determinative; but at later 
periods both se, seo, ]?3et, and pe, are employed as definite articles. 
But it is equally true that an, one, served as an indefinite, as in the 
second of the passages quoted from Ohther, in Illustration IV., postj 
an port, a harbour, and an mycel ea, a great river, Pauli's Alfred, 
p. 248, &c. We must therefore either admit both articles or reject 
both. 

Se, seo, j)cet, is thus inflected : 









Singular, 




N. 


TO, 

se 
pass 




/ 

se6 
paj're 


fU 

ytQt 

pses 


A. 


pam 
fone 




Jjse're 
pa 

Tlurak 


pam 
pest 






N. 
G. 


m.f. n. 

yk 

para 

pani 








A. 


\k. 





Noims. 

The following table shows tjie variable endings of the nouna in the 
different declensions. 



120 KOTES AND ILLUSTRATIOJfS Lect. III. 







SIMPLE ORDER. 










First Declension, 










Singular, 










Masc. 


Fern. 




mut 


Non 


t. 


-a 


-e 




-e 


Gen 




-an 


-an 




-an- 


Dat. and ] 
Abl. 1 


-an 


-an 




-an 


Ace. 




-an 


-an 

JPlural. 




-e 




Nom. and Ace. 


-an 








. Gen. 


-ena 








Dat. and Abl. 


-um 










COMPLEX ORDER. 








Second Declension. 


Third Declension, 






Singular. 






Singular. 




Masc. 


Fern. 


Neut 


Masc. 


Fern. Neut, 


Nom. 


-(-e) 


— 


— 


-u 


-u -(-e) 


Gen. 


-es 


-e 


-es 


-a 


-e -es 


Dat. and 

Abl. 


}- 


-e 


-e 


-a 


-e -e 


Ace. 


Ke) 


-e 

Tlural. 


— • 


-u 


-e -(-e) 

Plural. 


Nom. anc 
Ace. 


'i- 


-a 


— 


-a 


-a -u 


Gen. 


-a 


-a(-ena) -a 


-a 


-a (-ena) -a 


Dat. and 
Abl. 


> -nm 


-um 


-um 


-um 


-um -imi 






ADJECTIVES. 










Indefinite endings. 










Singular, 






Plural 




m. 


/. 


n. 




m.f. n. 


N. 


— 


... 


.—^ 




-e (-r.) 


G. 


-es 


-re 


-es 




-ra 


D. 


— nm 


, 'tQ 


-tun 




-um (-on, -an) 


A. 


-ne 


-e 


-^ 




-e. 



Lect. III. 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIOiqS 










Definite 


endings. 










Singular, 




Burd. 






m. 


/. 


n. 


m.f. n. 




N. 


-a 


-e 


-e 


-an 




G. 


-an 


-an 


-an 


-ena 




D. 


-an 


-an 


-an 


-um (-on, 


-an) 


A. 


-an 


-an 


-e 


-an 





121 



COMPAEISOK 
The Comparative is formed from the Positive indefinite by annexing 
-ra for the masculine, -re for the feminine and neuter ; the Superlative 
from the same by adding -ost or -est for the indefinite, and -est a for 



the masculine, 


-este for the feminine and neuter, 


definite form. 






PEONOUNS. 








First Person, 






Singular, 




Dual, 


Plural, 


N. 


ic 




wit 


we 


G. 


min 




imcer 


lire 


D. 


me 




unc 


us 


A. 


me 




unc 


us. 






Second Person, 






Singular, 




Dual. 


Flural, 


N. 


)m 




git 


ge 


G. 


l>in 




incer 


eower 


D. 


^ 




inc 


eow 


A. 


\& 




inc 


eow. 






Third Person, 






Singular. 




miral. 




m. 


/. 


n. 


m.f. n. 


N. 


he 


he6^ 


hifc 


hi 


G. 


his 


hire 


his 


hira 


D. 


him 


hire 


him 


him 


A. 


hine 


hi 


hit 


hi.. 



The Possessive Pronouns are the genitives of personal pronouns of 
the first and second persons, treated as nominative stem-forms, and de- 
clined like the indefinite adjective. There is no possessive pronoun of 
the third person, the genitive plural of the personal pronoun being used 
instead. 



122 NOTES AND ILLUSTKATIOiNS Lect. III. 



EELATIVE AND INTERROGATIVE PRONOUNS. 

The parts of speech given iinder the head Article, declinable and 
indeclinable, ure generally used as Relative Pronouns. The Interro- 
gative is thus declined : 

Singular, 





m. f. 


«. 


N. 


hwd 


hwast 


G. 


hwses 


hwaes 


D. 


hwam 


hwam 


A. 


hwone 


hwaet. 



VERBS. 

There are several classes of verbs, both strong, or inflected by aug- 
mentation, and weak, or inflected by letter-change. A few examples 
of each must suffice. 

SIMPLE ORDER, OR FIRST CONJUGATION. 
INDICATIVE MODE. 

Present. 



' Class I. 


Class II. 


Class TIT. 


Sing. ic luf-ige 


hyr-e 


tell-e 


l?u luf-ast 


hyr-st 


tel-st 


he luf-atS 


hyr-S 


tel-t5 


Plur. we, ge, hi luf-iatS 


hyr-aS 


teU-aS 



If, as in interrogative sentences, the pronoun follow the verb, the 
plural is luf-ige, hyr-e, tell-e. 

Im;perfect, 



Sing. 
Plur. 


ic luf-ode 
Jjii luf-odest 
he luf-ode 
we, ge. 111 luf-odon 


hyr-de 
hyr-dest 
hyr-de 
hyr-don 


teal-de 
teal-dest 
teal-de 
teal-don 




SUBJUNCTIVE MODE. 






Present. 




Sing, 
Plur, 


luf-ige . 
luf-ion 


hyr-e 
hyr-on 


tcU-e 

tell-on. 



Lect. III. 



NOTES AND ILLXJSTEATIONS 



123 



iTrfperfcct. 



Sing. 
Plur. 


luf-ode hyr-de 
luf-odon hyr-don 

TTVrPEEATIVE MODE. 


teal-de 
teal-don. 


Sing. 
Plur. 


Itif-a hyr 
riuf-ia3 fhyr-aS 
\ luf-ige 1 hyr-e 

INEINITIVE MODE. 


tel-e 
fteU-aS 
Itell-e. 


Pres. 

Gerund. 


luf-ian hyr-an 
to luf-igenne to hyr-enne 


tell-an 
to tell-anne 



} 



luf-igende hyr-ende tell-ende 



Part Pres. 
and Active 

andPa^'ssL } ^^'''^ ^^^'^^ fe"') ^^'"^^ fe"") ^'^^-^• 



COMPLEX OEDEE, OE SECOND CONJUGATION. 

INDICATIVE MODE. 

Present. 



Sing, 



Ph 



Sing. 



Plur. 



Sing. 
Plur. 



{ 



Class I. 


Class II. 


Class m. 


brece 

bricst 

bricS 

brecaS 

brece 


healde 

hyltst 

hylt (healt) 
■ healdaS 
. healde 

Im]yerfcct. 


drage 

drsegst 

drsegS 

f dragaS 

1 drage 


braec 


he61d 


dr6h 


braece 
braec 


heolde 
he61d 


droge 
droh 


brascon 


he<51don 


drogon. 


SUBJUNCTIVE MODE. 






Present. 




breoe 
brecon 


healde 
healdon 


drage 
dragon 



124 



KOIES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. III. 


Im]^erfcct 

brss'ce heolde 
brae'con heoldon 


droge 
drogon. 


IMPERATIVE MODE. 




brec lieald 
r brecaS f healdatS 
t brece \ healde 


drag 
r dragaS 
t drage. 


INFINITIVE MODE. 




brecan healdan 
to brecanne to healdanne 


dragan 
to draganne 


V brecende healdende 


dragende 


!■ (ge-) brocen (ge-) healden (ge-) dragen. 



Sing, 
Plur, 



Sing. 
Plur. 

Pres. 

Gerund. 
Part. Pres. 
and Active 
Part. Past 
and Passive 

The perfect and pluperfect tenses are formed, as in the cognate 
Gothic languages and in modern English, by the verb h abb an, to 
have, used as an auxiliary with the past or passive participle. 

There is no true passive voice ; but, as in English, the place of the 
passive is supplied by the past or passive participle, with the substan- 
tive verb wesan, io 5e, as an auxiliary. 

Wesan is thus conjugated : 



INDICATIVE MODE. 



Present 



Plur. 



ic eom 

pii eart 

he is, ys 

we, gG, hi synd, syndon 



^ rwass 
^^ I W£ere 



1 



W£e3 

wseron. 



SUBJUNCTRT2 MODE. 



Present^ s, 
Plur. 



Sing. 



sy, sig, seo 
syn 



Imperfect^ 
Plur. 



BEPERATIVE. 

wes Plur, 

Gerund. i6 wesanne 



{ 



Part. Pres. 
„ PaU 



wesende 
(ge-) wesen. 



wsere 
waeron. 

wesaS 
wese 



Lect. III. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 125 

The Anglo-Saxon verb lias no future tense in either mode ; the pre- 
sent being employed instead of a future. The present of the defective 
verb beon, to he, however, has frequently a distinct future significa- 
tion, and thus serves as a future to we s an. 

Beon is thus conjugated : 

Indie, pres. 



Plur. 
Injin, beon, 



1. beo 


Subj. pres. beo 


2. byst 


Flur. beon 


3. hf^ 


Imper. beo 


r beo'S 
I beo 


Flur. IJ^?^ 
tbeo 


Ger. to beonne 


f Fart, lores, beonde. 



IV. (p. 112.) 

EXTRACTS FROM onTIIER's NARRATIVE, AND FROM ALFRED's 
TRANSLATION OF BOETHIUS. 

This narrative, which is introduced by King xllfred into his transla- 
tion of Orosius, is interesting both as being, so far as style is concerned, 
probably Alfred's own work, and as containing the earliest authentic 
information we possess concerning the geography and the people of the 
countries it describes. In what language Ohther communicated with 
the king does not appear, but it was probably in the Old-Northern 
rather than in the Anglo-Saxon. We have reason to believe that 
the two speeches resembled each other sufficiently, in the ninth century, 
to be mutually intelligible to those using them, and there is evidence 
that the lays of the Northern bards who visited England were under- 
stood by at least the Saxon nobles. 

I give : 1. the Anglo-Saxon text, from the appendix to Pauli's Life 
of Alfred. London, 1857 ; I have, however, to diminish the chances 
of typographical error, used the common English type instead of the 
Anglo-Saxon letter, so, far as the alphabets correspond; 2. an English 
word-for-word version; 3. Thorpe's translation, in which, as will be 
seen by the notes, I have corrected an obvious error; 4. A French 
translation of Thorpe's version. 

1. Fela spella him sa^don ]7a Beormas, 85g]?er ge 

2. Many things him told the Beormas, both 

3. The Beormas told him many particulars, both 
' 4. Les Beormas lui raconth*ent plusieurs d^tails^ tant 



126 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



Lect. Ill, 



1. of hyra agentim lande. 

2. of their own land 

3. of their own land, 

4. de leur propre pays, 

'1. ]?e ymb hy titan w^ceron. 

2. that around them abont were; 

o. lying around them; 

4. qui les environnaient ; 



ge of ]>3im lande 

and of the land 

and of the other lands 

que des autres pays 

ac he nyste hwaet 

but he wist-not what 

but he knew not what 

mais il ne savait pas ce qui 



1 ))aes so^es wger. for])asm he hit sylf ne geseah: 

2. (of-) the sooth was, for-that he it self not saw. 

3. was true, because he did not see it himself. 

4. etait vrai, parce qu'il ne le voyait pas lui-meme. 

1. Da Finnas him ]7uhte. and J)a Beormas sprgecon 

2. The Finns him thought, and the Beormas spoke 

3. It seemed to him that the Finns and the Beormas spoke 

4. II lui semblait que les Finois et les Beormas parlaient 



1. neah an ge'Seode: 

2. nigh one language. 

3. nearly one language. 

4. a pen pres un seul langage. 



SwiSost he for ^yder. 
Chiefliest he fared thither, 
He went thither ' chiefly, 
II y alia principalement. 



1. to-eacan J^ass landes sceawunge. for ]7£em 

2. besides the land's seeing, for the 

3. in addition to seeing the country, on account of the 

4. non-seulement pour voir la contree, mais a cause des 

1. hors-hw^aslum, forfa^m hi habba'5 swy^e ajSele ban on 

2. horse-whales, for-that they have very noble bones in 

3. walrusses, because they have very noble bones in 

4. morses, parce qu'ils ont de belles defenses a 



1. hyra toSum. 

2. their teeth, 

3. their teeth, 

4. leurs m^choires. 



]>D. teS hy brohton sume 
these teeth they brought some 
some of these teeth they brought 
defenses dont ils porterent quelques-unes 



1. ]?ffim cynincge. and hyra hyd bi3 swySe god to 

2. (to-) the king: and their hide is very good for 

3. to the king: and their hides are very good for 

4. au roi; ct leurs peaux sont bonnes pour les 



Lect. III. ' NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 127 

1. scip-rapum: Se hw£el biS micle Isessa 

2. ship-ropes. This whale is much less 

3. ship-ropes. This whale is much less 

4. cordages des navires. Cette baleine est beaucoup plus petite 

1. Somie o'Sre hwalas. ne biS he lengra ]7onne sjfan 

2. than other whales, not is he longer than seven 

3. than other whales, it being not longer than seven 

4. que les autres baleines, n'etant pas plus longue que sept 

1. elna lang. ac on his agnum lande is se betsta 

2. ells long ; but in his own land is the best 

3. ells ; but in his own country is the best 

4. aunes ; mais dans son propre pays il y a la meilleure 

1. hw£cl-hunta'S, ])a beo^ eahta and feowertiges elna 

2. whale-hunting, they are eight and forty ells 

3. whale-hunting, there they are eight-and-forty ells 

4. chasse a la baleine, la elles ont quarante-huit aunes 

1. lange. and jja masstan fiftiges elna lange. para 

2. loiigj and the largest fifty ells long ; (of-) these 

3. ^ongj and the largest fifty ells long; of these 

4. de longuem-, et les plus grandes en ont cinquante; de celles-ci 

1. he ssede \>£Qt he syxa sum ofsloge syxtig on 

2. he said that he (of-) six some slew ■ sixty in 

3. he said that he and five others slew sixty in 

4. il dit que lui et cinq autres en avaient tue soixante en 

1. twam dagum :* He was swySe spedig man on j^aem 

2. two days. He was (a) very wealthy man in the 

3. two days. He was a very wealthy man in those 

4. deux jours. C'etait un homme tres-riche dans les 

1. aehtum J^e heora speda on beoS. f is on 

2. ownings that their wealth in is, that is in 

3. possessions in which their wealth consists, that is in 

4. biens qui constituent leurs richesses, c'est-a-dire en 

1. wild-deorum:* He hsefde ]?a-gyt. ]>a. he pone cyningc sohte, 

2. wild deer. He had yet, when he the king sought, 

3. wild deer. He had at the time he came to the king, 

4. cerfs sauvages. II avait a I'epoque ou il vint vers le roi, 



128 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



Lect. Ill, 



1. tamra deora unbebohtra syx bund :* Da deor hi bataS 

2. (of-) tame deer unsold six bundred. Tbese deer tbey bigbt 

3. six bundred unsold tame deer. Tbese deer tbey call 

4. six cents cerfs apprivoises invendiis. lis appellent ces cerfs 

1. branas. J^ara w£eron syx stsel-branas. 6a 

2. . reins, (of-) tbem were six stale-reins, tbese 

3. rein-deer, of wbicb tbere were six decoy rein-deer, wbicb 

4. des rennes, parmi ceux-ci six etaient des rennes prives, qui 

1. beo6 SA\^(5e dyre 

2. are very dear 

3. are very valuable 

4. ont une grande valeur 

1, hy fod J)a wildan branas mid:* 

2. tbey catcb tbe wild reins witb (tbem). 

5. tbey catcb tbe wild rein-deer witb tbem. 
4, par leur moyen lis prennent les rennes sauvages. 



mid 


Finnum. 


fort5a3m 


witb 


(tbe) Finns, 


for-tbat 


amongst 


tbe Fins, 


because 


cbez 


les Finois, 


parce que 



Notes, fela, indeclinable adj. obsolete in Englisb, but extant in Sc. 
fell; — spell a, ace. pi. from spell, tidings, information, &c., obsolete 
in tbis sense, but extant in spell, a cbarm, tbe verb to spell, and tbe 
last syllable of Gospel; — scedon, 3. p. pi. imp. indie, from sccgan, 
s egg an, scegan, to say, or tell; — ceg^er ge — ge, both — and, extant, 
as an alternative only, in either, not as a conjunctive. Aeg^er i^ more 
generally used in tbe sense of both i\ini\ hd, hu, hdtwd (hd, both, 
twd, two'), hut a, hutu, butiva, wbicb are tbe etymological equivalents 
of both, or tban beg en; — of, about., from, out of, but never sign of 
possessive in Anglo-Saxon; — hyra, poss. pi. of tbe 3. p. of tbe personal 
pronoun. See p. 121; — "^cem, dat. for more common form \dm; — ymb, 
Ger. um, about, around, obsolete; ac, — but, obsolete. Butan, bute, 
exists in Anglo-Saxon as a conjunction, tbougb seldom used. Alfred 
employs it in Boetbius, c. xxxiv. § 10. ; — nyste, 3. p. sing, imp.indic. 
from nit an or nytan, not to know, a negative verb formed by tbe 
coalescence of tbe particle ne, not, and wit an, to Icnow. Tbe tendency 
to coalescent formations was carried furtber in Early Englisb tban in 
Anglo-Saxon. See First Series, Lecture XVIII ; — pcps so''6es, so^es 
is tbe genitive of tbe noun soS, and tbe pbrase nearly corresponds to 
tbe of a truth, of tbe scriptiual dialect; — ]>uhte, 3. p. sing. imp. indie, 
from \>incan, to seem, here used impersonally witb tbe dative hi 7nj 
as, in tbe modem Ibrm, witb tbe first person, me-thought; — ge^eodCf 



LSCT. III. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 129 

language^ obsolete; — sivi<Sost, superlative, from sivi^e, very much. 
The root is adj. sini^y sivi/'^, strong^ iJOiv erf id ^ great, which, with its 
twenty derivatives and componnds, is entirely obsolete. It is a singular 
instance of the mixture of vocabularies in English, that so common and 
so simple a native word should have been superseded by a borroAved 
root. Very is the Latin verum, French vrai, and was at first used in 
English as an adjective. Thus Chaucer, Wife of Bath's Tale : 

Thurgli which he may his ve^^ay frendes see ; 

to-eacav., extant in ehe; — sceaivunge, root extant in slioiv, but with 
an obj ective meaning ; — li ors-liiowl u 711, Icel. r o s m h v a 1 r, icalrus ; — 
(jef)ele, Ger. edel, noble, precious, obsolete in English; — mcestan, 
nom. pi. superlative, definite, associate with my eel, large. Thorpe 
translates \a mcestan, ' ?/ie ???osio/^72ew?,' which is a strange oversight, 
for ma; St is properly significative of quantity, not of number ; and be- 
sides, this rendering is inconsistent with the context, because if the 
general length of the whole Avas forty-eight ells, ' the most of them ' 
could not have been fifty ells long; — spedig, prosperous. Our modern 
verb to speed means, often, to prosper; — ^p, contraction for ]yat; — 
hata'^, we use higJit only in a passive sense, but liatan like the Ger. 
heissen, meant both to call and to he called, 

FEOM THE SAIVIE. 

1. Ohthere scede ^ sio scir hatte Halgoland ]>e he on 

2. Ohthere said that the shire hight Halgoland that he in 

3. Ohthere said that the shire in which he dwelt is called 

4. Ohthere dit que le comte ou ildemeurait s'appelle 

1. bude*.' He cwai3 •}) nan man ne bude be norSan 

2. dwelt. He said that no man not dwelt by north 

0. Halgoland. He said that no one dwelt to the north 
4. Halgoland. II dit que personne n'habitait plusaunord 

1. him*.- Donne is an port on suSeweardum j^a^m 

2. (of) him. There is a port to southwards (of) that 

3. of him. There is likewise a port to the south of that 

4. que lui. H y a aussi un port au sud de cette 

1. lande, J'one man hcet Scyringes-heal. pySer he cwas'S 

2. land, which men hight Scyringes-heal; thither, he said, 

3. land, which is called Scyringes-heal; thither, he said, 

4. contree, qui est appele Scyringes-heal; ace port, dit-il, 

K 



130 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



Lect. III. 



1. "p Avs^a ne mihte geseglian on 

2. that one not might sail in 
H, no one could sail in 
4. pei\s<)nne ne pent naviguer dans 



anum monde, 

one month, 

a month, 

un mois. 



gyf man 
if one 
if he 

wind, 
wind; 
wind : 



1. on niht wicode, and selce dsege haefde ambyrne 

2. by night lay-by, and each day had fair 

3. landed at night, and every day had a fair 

4. abordait de nuit, et que chaque jour il eut un vent favorable ; 

1. and <;iille Jm hwile he sceal seglian be lande. and on psct 

2. and all the while he should sail by (the) land, and on the 

3. and all the while he would sail along the land, and on the 

4. et tout le temps il cotoyerait la terre, et au 

1. steorboid him biS cerest Iraland. and ])onne ]>a 

2. starboard (of ) him will-be erst Iraland, and then the 

3. starboard will first be Iraland, and then the 

4. tribord il y aura premierement Iraland, et ensuite les 



1. igland j?e synd betux Iralande. and ]>issum lande*. * Donne 

2. islands ^vhich are betwixt Iraland and this land. Then 

3. islands which are between Iraland and this land. Then 

4. lies qui sont entre Iraland et cette contree. Ensuite 

1. is ]7is land oS he cymS to Sciringes-heale, and 

2. is this land till he cometh to Sciringes-heal, and 

3. it is this land until he comes to Sciringes-heal, and 

4. c'est cette contree jusqu'a ce qu'il vienne a Sciringes-heal, et 

1. ealne weg on jiaet baecbord Nor'Swege. wi5 suSan pone 

2. all (the) way on the larboard, Norway. To south (of) 

3. all the way on the larboard, Norway. To the south of 

4. tout le trajet au babord,c'estlaNorvege. Au sud de 

1. Sciringes-heal fylS swySe my eel sa3 up in on ])ajt 

2. Sciringes-heal runs(a) very great sea up into the 

3. Sciringes-heal a very great sea runs up into the 

4. Sciringes-heal une vaste mer s'avance dans la 

1. land, seo is bradre ]?onnc £enig man oferseon masge. 

2. land, which is broader than any man over-see may, 

3. land, which is broader than any one can see over, 

4. terre, qui est si large quo pcrsonne nepcutvoirdcrautrccotc, 



Lect. III. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 131 

1. and is Gotland on ot5re liealfe ongean. and sit$Sa Sillende*.' 

2. and is Gotland on(tlie) other side against, and then Seeland. 

3. and Jutland is opposite on the other side, and then Seeland. 

4. et Jutland est vis-a-vis de I'autre cote, et apres Seelande. 



1. 


Seo 


sas 115 masnig Imnd mila up in 


on p^t land. 


2. 


This 


sea lieth many hundred miles up in 


that land. 


3. 


This 


sea lies many miles up in 


that land. 


4. 


Cette 


mer s'avance plusieurs milles dans 


ce pays. 



1. and of Sciringes-heal he cwseS f he seglode on fif dagan 

2. And from Sciringes-heal he said that he sailei in five days 

3. And from Sciringes-heal he said that he sailed in five days 

4. Et de Sciringes-heal il dit qu'il naYigua en cinq jours 

1. to ]>Bim porte fe mon haet set-HaetSum. se stent 

2. to the port that men hight at-Heaths; this stands 

3. to the ]Dort which is called j^^t-Hagthum; which is 

4. a ce port qui est appele jEt-Hasthum; qui est 

1. betuh Winedum and Seaxum. and Angle, and hyrS 

2. betwixt (the) Wends and Saxons, and Angles, and belongs 

3. between the Wends and Seaxons, and Angles, and belongs 

4. situe entre lesWendes et les Saxons, etles Angles, et qui appartient 

1. in on Dene. 

2. to (the) Danes. 

3. to Denmark. 

4. au Danemarc. 

Notes. It will be observed that the construction of this passage conforms 
more nearly than that of the former to the English idiom. I make no attempt 
to solve the geographical difficulties it presents, but it is well to observe that 
some critics suppose thatlraland should be read Isaland or Island, 
Iceland, and that Gotland is not Jutland, SiS translated by Thorpe, 
hut the iiiiaiid of Gothkmd. bude is still extant in the noun booths 
and the last syllable of neighboiu^ is from the same root; — civce^, from 
cwe^an OT cwce^an, is the modern quoth; — an, one, is the origin of 
the indefinite article a, an; — port is no doubt the Latin portus; 
— wicode, imp. indie, from luician. The root icic seems to have 
meant originally an abiding or resting place, a station. The Northmen, 
who depended principally on navigation for a livelihood, applied the 
corresponding Old-Northern vih, exclusively, to a bay or harbour of 

K 2 



132 NOTES AND ILLUSTEATIONS Lect. III. 

refuge; the Anglo-Saxons, to any place of abode, as a toAvn. This is 
the probable origin of the termination -ivich in Norwich^ &c. In this 
passage, wicode involves the notion of a bay, as a coaster could not lie- 
by without entering a harbour; — amhyrne^ obsolete in English; — 
cerest, erst, superlative of <^r, ere; — bi^y from beon, to be, has here 
the force of a future; — hcecbord, now superseded by larboard. 
Eichardson gives no earlier authority for this latter word than Ealeigh. 
Babord, evidently identical with bcecbord, is found in most of the 
European languages, but no satisfactory etymology has been suggested 
for either word; — \e man hoet cet-Hce^um. This use of the dative, 
singular or plural, with a preposition, as the appellative of a town, is 
very common in Icelandic. The fact is important, because it shoAvs 
that the derivation of the ending -U7n in the names of towns from Ger. 
heim is, in many cases, erroneous. See First Series, Lecture II. p. 44, 
and Appendix, 4. In the sagas, €et-II(E^um is generally called 
HeiSabeeror IIei(5abyr, in which forms the name often occurs in 
Knytlinga-Saga. In the present instance, the form is no doubt that 
which the Norwegian Ohther gave it, but this construction, though 
rare, appears not to be unprecedented in Anglo-Saxon, at least in the 
singular. Kemble, Cod. Dip. ^v. Sax. No. 353, as quoted for another 
purpose in Haupt's Zeitschrift, XII. 282., gives this phrase from a grant 
of Athelstan to Wulfgar : ' quandam telluris particulam in loco quern 
solicole at Ham me vocitant;' — hyr^, 3. p. indie, pres. sing, from 
hyran, to hear, to obey, and hence, like the German gelioren, to 
belong. 

I have introduced a French translation made by a friend from 
Thorpe's version, for the purpose of a comparative view of the Anglo- 
Saxon, the English, and the French periodic construction. I think the 
latter might, without violence to the idiom of the language, have been 
made to show a closer conformity to Thorpe's syntax, but, though it 
was not executed with any such purpose, it will be apparent from a 
comparison of the different texts that English syntax corresj)onds almost 
as nearly with French as with Gothic precedent. I believe port and 
mil are the only words of Latin extraction used by Alfred in these 
extracts. Thorpe's translation, which studiously avoids non- Saxon 
words, has thirteen derived from French and Latin. About ten of the 
words employed by Alfred are now obsolete. 



Lect. IIL notes and illustrations 133 



PEEFACE TO ALFEED'S TEANSLATION OF BOETHIUS. 

From Cardale's edition, London, 1829 ; with (2) a literal version ; 
and (3) Cardale's translation. 

1. Aelfred Knning wtes wealhstod t5isse bee and 

2. Alfred, king, was translator (of-) tliis book and 

3. Alfred, king, was translator of tbis book and 

1. hie of bee Ledene on Englisc wende swa hio nu is gedon. 

2. it from book-leden into English turned as it now is done. 

3. turned it from book-latin into English as it now is done. 

1. hwilum he sette word be worde. hwilum andgit of 

2. Whiles he set word by word, whiles sense for 

3. Sometimes he set word by word, sometimes meaning of 

1. andgite. swa, swa he hit fa sweotolost and andgitfullicost 

2. sense, just as he it the most-clearly and intelligibly 

3. meaning, as he the most plainly and most clearly 

1. gereccan mihte. for J^a^m mistlicum and manigfealdum weoruld 

2. speak might, for the distracting and manifold world 

3. could render it, for the various and manifold worldly 

1. bisgum ))e hine oft eegper ge on mode ge on lichoman 

2. business which him oft both in mind and in body 

3. occupations Avhich often busied him both in mind and in body. 

1. bisgodan. Da bisgu us sint swi}?e earfo]? rime 

2. busied. The businesses us are very hard (to) count 

3. The occupations are to us very difficult to be numbered 

1. fe on his dagum on pa ricu becomon ]?e he 

2. which in his 9 days upon those realms came that he 

3. which in his days came upon the kingdoms which he 

1. underfangen hsefde, and* ]>eah Ipa, he pas boc 

2. undertaken had, and yet when he this book 

3. had undertaken, and nevertheless when he had learned 

1. hajfde geleornode, and of Ijasdene to Engliscum 

2. had learned, and from Latin into English 

3. this book, and turned it from Latin into the 



134 NOTES AND ILLUSTKATIONS Ia^CV III. 

1. spelle gewende. ]>a geworhte lie hi efter tu> leoj^e. 

2. speech turned, then wrought he it afterwards to (a) laj; 

3. English language, he afterwards composed it in verse, 

1. swa swa heo nu gedon is, and nu bit i\^('i for Godevr 

2. so as it now done is; and now prays &nd for God's 

3. as it now is done. And he now prays and for God's 

1. naman healsa]> aslcne J)ara Se J^as hjz raedan lystfe. 

2. name begs each (of-) them that this booL (to) read lists, 

3. name implores every one of those whom it liwts to read this book, 

1. f he for hine gebidde and him ne wite gif he 

2. that he for him pray and him not blame if he 

3. that he would pray for him and not blame him if he 

1. hit rihtlicor ongite fonne he mihte forj^eemde selc mon 

2. it rightlier understand than he might; for that each man 

3. more rightly understand it than he could. For every man 

1. sceal be his andgites masSe and 

2. should by his understanding's measure and 

3. must according to the measure of his understanding and 

1. be his semettan sprecan ^aet he spree]?, and 

2. by his leisure, speak that he speaketh, and 

3. according to his leisure, speak that which he speaks, and 

1. don f "p he de]>. 

2. do that that he doeth. 

3. do that which he does. 

Notes, ivealhstod, from wealh, a foreigner, stranger, WelsJiman. 
stod is apparently allied to standan, to stand, but its force in this com- 
pound is not clear. We alhstod is wholly obsolete ; — bec-ledeney 
led en is used for Latin and for language. See Fi»st Series, Appendix, 
1. Chaucer uses leden, in this latter sense, in the Squieres Tale : 

Eight in hire haukes Icden tlius slic sajcle. 

The phrase hec-leden belongs to a period when Anglo-Saxon was so 
rarely, and Latin so universally employed for literary purposes, that the 
latter was emphatically the language of books; — wende from WGjidan, 
to turn, obsolete in this sense, but surviving probably in ivend, to go, 
and ivent, associate imp. oi go; — hivilum, dative pi. from hiuil, hiuile, 



Lect. III. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 135 

a ivliile, time, space; — and git, andgyt, or and get, mind, intelligence, 
meaning, physical sense, wholly obsolete with its many derivatives and 
compounds. The moral and intellectual nomenclature of the Anglo- 
Saxon had become almost wholly lost before Chaucer's time, as will be 
shown in Lecture YIII. The substitution of Eomance words for Gothic, 
or Anglo-Saxon, extended also very far in the vocabulary of common 
material life. Of the English names of the five senses, two, taste and 
touch, are Eomance. See also First Series, Lecture VI. p. 139. Bos- 
worth, under and get, quotes an Anglo-Saxon writer as saying: ])a 
fif andgita ]>res lichoman synd. gesiht, hlyst, sproec, sta^ng or 
stenc, and hrcepung; the five senses of the body are sight, hearing, 
{hlyst, Engl, listen'), speech, smell, and touch. Bosworth does not ap- 
pear to suspect any error in this passage, but it is possible that sprwc, 
speech, is a misreading for smcec, taste, still extant in smack. But this 
is by no means certain. In the Ancren Eiwle, about a.d. 1200, it is said: 
])e heorte wardeins beoS pe vif wittes — sihSe & herunge, spehunge and 
smellunge, & eueriches limes uelunge ; and we wuUeS speken of alle, 
uor hwo se wit )>eos wel, he deS Salomones heste. The tuardens of the 
heart are the five senses : sight and hearing, speaking and smell, and 
every limVs feeling, and lue ivill speak of them all ; for ivhosoever keeps 
these ivell, he doeth* Solomon's liest. Another manuscript reads smec- 
chinge for spekunge, and the learned editor of the Camden Society's 
edition of the Ancren Eiwle thinks that, in the copy he printed from, 
spekunge is an error for smekunge. But the author of the Ancren 
Eiwle, in discussing the temptations to which the indulgence of the 
senses exposes us, dilates first upon sight, then upon speech, thus pre- 
facing his remarks on this subject : Spellunge & smecchunge beo6 ine 
mu'Se bo'Se, ase sihSe is i6en "j* eien : auh we schulen leten smecchunge 
vort til we speken of ower mete. Talking and taste are both in the 
mouth, as the sight is in the eyes : hut ive shall omit taste until tee speak 
of your meat. He then goes on to treat of hearing, then of sight, speech 
and hearing, jointly, concluding this section by saying : ]ns beoS nu ]>e 
preo wittes f ich habben ispeken of Speke we nu schortliche of }>e two 
oSre : jmuh nis nout spellunge ]>e niu6es wit, ase smecchunge, ))auh heo 
beon beo6e ine muSe. These are noiv the three senses that I have spoken 
of. Speak we now shortly of the other two ; though talking is not a 

* Doeth. It is to be regretted that the false learning of grammarians has re- 
jected the important distinction between doth, auxiliary, and doeth, independent. 

t "Note the curious coalescences, ine for in the, sing.; i<Sen for in the, (l^oem) 
plur. 



136 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS Lect. III. 

sense of the mouth as tasting is, though they are loth in the mouth. He 
then proceeds to treat of the smell and of the touch ox feeling^ but makes 
no mention of the taste, thongli in the Vlllth and concluding part, he 
gives rules of abstinence. In the second paragraph of this part he says : 
Of sihSe and of speche, and of the oSre wittes is inouh i-seid ; Of sight, 
and of speech, and of the other senses enough has been said. Notwith- 
standing the writer's protest, then, that ' talking is not a sense of the 
mouth as tasting is,' yet he habitually treated speech as a sense. Of 
the five names of the senses enumerated in the passage cited by Bos- 
Vforth under andget, gesiht, sight is the only one now used to indi- 
cate a sense, and hrcepung, from hrcepan, to touch, with all its cog- 
nates, is lost altogether. 

There was a strange confusion in the use of the names of the senses 
in the Middle Ages. Chaucer's employment oi feel for smell is an 
instance : 

I was so nigh, I might fele 

Of the bothum the swete odour. 

Romaunt of the Rose, v. 1844. 

Whan I so nigh me might /eZe 
Of the bothum the swete odour. 

R. R. V. 3012. 

In the original, the verb is sentir, Lat. s entire, to perceive; sentir 
signifies to smell in modern French also; — siveotolost, adverb superl. 
from sweotol, plain, clear, which is obsolete, with all its progeny; 
gereccan, recan, to speak, extant only in reckon. Between re can, 
to speak, and reckon, to count, there is the same analogy as between the 
two corresponding senses of the verb to tell ; — fo r has here nearly the 
meaning of m spite of, notivithstanding ; — mistlicum, dat. pi. from 
mist lie or mis lie, is not allied to iiiix, but is a compound from 7nis 
and lie, mis-like, unlike, discordant; — lichoman, hody, obsolete ex- 
cept in the un-English lyke- or like-ivake, corpse-watch; — earfo]), 
obsolete; — rime, number, not the Grseco-Latin rhythm us, is the 
true source of our rhyme. The resemblance between rime and Greek 
apidfjLOQ in both form and meaning deserves notice; — ricu, realm, Ger. 
Reich, allied to rich, but otherwise obsolete; — geivorhte x x to 
leo]>e, turned into a lay or verse. This may, and probably does refer 
to the metrical, or rather rhythmical portions of Boethius, which Alfred 
translated into both prose and verse ; but some have supposed that the 
whole version is to be considered as a species of measured composition. 



Lect. III. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 137 

It would be hard, however, to liken it to anything we call verse, unless 
it be Eichter's Streckvers; — healsa]>, infin. halsian, from Jials, 
the 7iecky to implore, to persuade hy embracing. The root and all its de- 
rivatives are now obsolete in English; — wite, blame, allied to twit; — 
wia'Se, measure, extant in verb, to mete; — cemettan, leisure, allied to 
empty. The Latin vacuus, the equivalent of empty, was used in the 
sense of at leisure. 

In this preface, Alfred uses no Latin word. Cardale's translation 
has seventeen, of Latin and French derivation. Many of Alfred's most 
important words, as will be seen by the above notes, have entirely dis- 
appeared from the English vocabulary. 



LECTUEE IV. 

SE^lI-SAXON LITEKATUEB. 

That whicli is sown is not quickened except it die. The 
decay of an old literature is a necessary condition precedent for 
the origination of a new mode of intellectual life, in any people 
which has a prose and a poetry of its own. Had not the speech 
of the Anglo-Saxons perished, and with it the forms of literary 
effort which employed it as a medium, the broader-spreading 
and more generous vine, which now refreshes the whole earth, 
had never sprung from the regenerated root of that old stock. 

The Norman Conquest gave the finishing stroke to the effete 
commonwealth of which I spoke in a former lecture, and through 
the intellectual winter and spring-time of three centuries, which 
followed that event, the germ of a new and nobler nationality 
lay buried in the soil, undergoing the slow and almost imper- 
ceptible changes that were gradually fitting it for a vigorous 
and prolific growth. 

During this period, the Saxon, the Norman, the Danish 
settler and the few remains of the Celt were slowly melting and 
coalescing into a harmonized whole, if not into a homogeneous 
mass, and thus a new nation, a new character, and a new social 
and political influence in the world of letters, of art and of arms, 
were gradually developed. 

The immediate moral and intellectual results of the Conquest 
were fully realized, and the character of English intellect, taste 
and temper, so far at least as foreign action was concerned, was 
completely formed in the reign of Edward III. — the era of 
Langlande, and Chaucer, and Grower, and Wycliffe. The new 



Lect. IV. CONTINENTAL INFLUENCE 139 

ingredients had been introduced and incorporated, and a unity 
of feeling and spirit established, before those great writers com- 
menced their labours. In short, English nationality had become 
full-grown, and all that it remained for the Continent to do, in 
its capacity of an informing influence, was to furnish new ad- 
ditions to the stock of words at the command of the English 
writer, and models of literary form to serve as leading-strings 
for the first essays of an incipient literature. 

In the history of Anglo-Norman England, we find compara- 
tively few traces of that hostility of race which is so common 
between a conquered and a conquering people, and I think that 
recent English writers have exaggera^ted the reciprocal dislike 
and repugnance of the Norman and the Anglo-Saxon. A jealousy, 
indeed, existed — for the causes of it lie too deep in human 
nature to be eradicated — and there are not wanting evidences 
of its occasional manifestation ; but the civil and social discords 
seem generally results of the conflicting interests and sympathies 
of ranks and classes, rather than of a settled animosity between 
the home-born and the comeling. 

Down to the time of Edward III. the two languages, native 
and stranger, if not the two peoples, existed side by side, each 
forming a separate current in the common channel. Their 
intermingling was very gradual. Norman-French, which was 
the language of the schools, disturbed the inflections and the 
articulation of English, while English contributed no inconsider- 
able number of words to the vocabulary of Norman-French, 
modified its grammar in some particulars*, and thus created the 
dialect known as Anglo-Norman, which still survives in import- 
ant literary remains, but is most familiarly known as, for a long 
period, the forensic and judicial language of England. 

The Normans found in England as many objects and insti- 
tutions new to themselves as they brought with them and 



* For instance, it overthrew tlie Norman-French law of the formation of the 
plural in nouns. 



140 ENGLISH OF THIRTEENTH CENTUEY Lect. IV. 

imposed upon the English people. Hence, so long as •y;ie two 
dialects co-existed as independent speeches, the Norman, in its 
various applications and uses, borrowed as much as it gave; and 
accordingly, down at least to the accession of Edward III. we 
find in the French used in England, including the nomenclature 
of law and government, quite as large a proportion of Saxon 
words as contemporaneous English had borrowed from the 
Norman. 

The entire English vocabulary of the thirteenth century, as 
far as it is known to us by its printed literature, consists, accord- 
ing to Coleridge's Grlossarial Index, of about eight thousand 
words. Of these, only about one thousand, or between twelve 
and thirteen per cent., are of Latin and Eomance derivation. In 
the actual usage of any single author, such words do not exceed 
four or five per cent., and of this small proportion, some were 
probably taken directly from Latin moral and theological lite- 
rature, though in form they may have been accommodated to 
Norman modes of derivation. The language thus far was sub- 
stantially Anglo-Saxon, but modified in its periodic structure, 
and stripped of a certain number of inflections, the loss of which 
was compensated by newly developed auxiliaries, and by a more 
liberal use of particles and determinatives. 

Philologists have found it impossible to fix, on linguistic 
grounds, a period when Anglo-Saxon can be said to have ceased 
and English to have begun ; and this is one of the reasons why 
some are disposed to deny that any such metamorphosis ever 
took place, and to maintain the identity of the old speech and 
the new. The change from the one to the other was so gradual, 
that if we take any quarter or even half of a century, it is not 
easy to point out any marked characteristic difference between 
the general language of the beginning and the end of it, though 
particular manuscripts of the same work, differing not very 
much in date, sometimes exhibit dialects in very different states 
of resolution and reconstruction. The difficulty of discriminating 
the successive phases of the language by a chronological arrange- 



Lect. IV. STANDARD OF LANGUAGE 141 

ment is much increased by the fact, that although there are 
numerous written monuments from every age of English history, 
yet there is, in the series of printed vernacular writings, almost 
a hiatus, which extends through a large part of the thirteenth 
century, or in other words through one of the most important 
eras of English philological revolution. Besides this, we are in 
many cases wholly unable to distinguish with certainty, or even 
with reasonable probability, dialectic or individual peculiarities 
from the landmarks of general change and progress ; for not- 
withstanding the confidence with which critics assign particular 
writings to particular localities, upon internal evidence alone, 
we really know very little on the subject. In fact, in the pre- 
sent linguistic school, British as well as Continental, hastity 
generalized conclusions and positive assertion are so often sub- 
stituted for sufficient documentary proof, that he, who studies 
the early philology of modern Europe only so far as it is ex- 
hibited in grammars and dictionaries, and speculativo essays, is 
very frequent accumulating unsubstantial theories, instead of 
acquiring definite truths which can be shown to have ever had 
a real existence. 

In ages, when a native literature has not yet been created, or 
the structural forms of language established by the authorita- 
tive example of great and generally circulated works of genius, 
there can be no standard of diction or of grammar. Most writers 
will be persons whose intellectual training has been acquired 
through older literatures and foreign tongues. Their first efforts 
will incline to be imitative, and they will follow alien models 
not only in theme and treatment, but even in grammatical com- 
position. Every author will aim to be a philological reformer, 
and will adopt such system of orthography and of syntactical 
form and arrangement as accidental circumstances, or his own 
special tastes and habits of study, may have suggested to him. 
Hence no safe conclusions as to the common dialect of an age 
or country, at a period of linguistic transition, can be drawn 
from a single example, or from the consistent usage of a single 



142 PERIODS IN ENGLISH Lect. IV 

writer. No historically probable theory of progress and change 
can explain the remarkable grammatical differences between 
the older and the not much later text of Layamon, or between 
either of these and the nearly contemporaneous work of Ormin, 
because the intervening period is entirely too short for such 
revolutions to have been accomplished. And in like manner, 
even after the language had assumed the general character 
which now marks it, we find between the two texts of the Wy- 
cliffite translations of the Bible, or rather between Hereford's 
and Wycliffe's translation and the first recension of it, gram- 
matical differences, which it would be extravagant to ascribe to 
a general change in English syntax during the very few years 
that are supposed to have elapsed between the execution of the 
first version and the revision of it by Purvey. 

Although the process of transformation from Anglo-Saxon to 
English was too gradual and too obscure to admit of precise 
chronological determination, yet subsequent epochs of change 
in our vernacular, after it had once dropped the formal, or, to 
speak more accurately, the inflectional peculiarities of Anglo- 
Saxon grammar, are somewhat more distinctly marked, and it is 
practicable to indicate its successive periods by tolerably well 
characterised and easily recognisable tokens, though, as in the 
history of other languages, the dates assumed as the beginning 
and the end of those epochs are somewhat arbitrary. It is not, 
however, that the later growth of English has actually been 
more jper saltum than at earlier periods, but because, from the 
increasing uniformity of the written dialect — a natural result 
of the general circulation of the works of distinguished authors, 
and the consequent universal prevalence of the forms which 
they had consecrated — and also from the much greater number 
of literary monuments which are historically known to have 
been produced in different parts of the island, we can trace the 
history of the language, and follow all its movements with far 
greater facility than through periods when contemporaneous 



i 



Lect. IV. PERIODS IN ENGLISH 143 

writers differed more widely and the philological memorials are 
fewer. 

The London Philological Society, in its ^Proposal for the 
publication of a New English Dictionary,' divides English, for 
philological purposes, into three periods : the first, from its rise, 
about 1250, to the Eeformation, of which the first printed 
English translation of the New Testament, in 1526, may be 
taken as the earliest monument ; the second, from the Eeform- 
ation to and including the time of Milton, or from 1526 to 
1674, the date of Milton's death; and the third, from Milton 
to our own day. 

These periods, I suppose, are fixed for lexicographical con- 
venience in the collection of authorities, as I do not discover 
any other sufiicient ground for the division. Neither is Craik's 
distribution altogether satisfactory. The first, or Early English 
period of that author extends from 1250 to 1350; his second, 
or Middle English, from the latter date to 1530 ; and his third, 
or Modern English, from the middle of the sixteenth century 
to the present day.* This, however, seems an objectionable 
division as to the second period, because it embraces, in one 
group, writers so unlike in literary and philological character 
as Langlande and Wyatt, Wycliffe and Sir Thomas More ; and 
as to the last, because it overlooks the philological revolution 
due to the introduction of printing, the more general diffusion 
of classical literature, and the first impulse of the Eeformation, 
and classes together writers who have so little in common as 
Sir Philip Sidney and Walter Scott. I attach very little im- 
portance to these arbitrary divisions of the annals of our lan- 
guage and literature, but having on a former occasion adopted 
an arrangement not coinciding with either of these systems, I 
shall, both for the sake of uniformity, and because I have found 
it at once convenient and suited to my views of English philo- 
logical history, substantially adhere to it in this course. f The 

* Outlines of the -History of the English Language. 
t See First Series, Lecture I., p. 48. 



144 PERIODS IN ENGLISH Lect. IV. 

first period I would, with Craik, consider as extending from 
about tlie middle of the thirteenth to the middle of the four- 
teenth century; the second would terminate with the third 
quarter of the sixteenth century ; the third would embrace all 
subsequent phases of both the language and the literature 
down to the time of Milton, with whom the second period of 
the Philological Society concludes. The question of subsequent 
division or subdivision is at present unimportant, because, for 
reasons already given, I do not propose to carry down my 
sketches later than to the age of Shakspeare, when I consider the 
language as having reached what, in the geography of great 
rivers is called the lower course'^, and as having become a flow- 
ing sea capable of bearing to the ocean of time the mightiest 
argosies, a mirror clear enough to reflect the changeful hues of 
every sky, and give body and outline to the grandest forms 
which the human imagination has ever conceived. 

The literature of England, were it to be considered without 
reference to the revolutions of its vehicle, might admit and per- 
haps require a division into very different eras. Some of these 
would commence with prominent and well-marked epochs of 
sudden transition, while in others, the periods are separated by 
an age of apparent intellectual inactivity, during which the 
monuments are too few and too insignificant to enable us easily 
to trace the course of those hidden influences, which were secretly 
and silently training and costuming the dramatis personam for 
a new and more triumphant entry upon the stage of literature. 

But we propose to consider the language and its literary pro- 
ductivity as co-ordinate powers, reciprocally stimulating and in- 
tensifying each other, and hence, so far as their history is not 
concurrent, we must distinguish their respective chronological 



* In German, Unterlauf, or with some writers, Strom, is that lowest and 
usually navigable part of the course of a river, where its motion is due less to the 
inclination of its bed than to the momentum acquired by previous rapidity of flow, 
and to the hydrostatic pressure of the swifter currents from higher parts of its 
valley. 



Lect. IV. ORIGIN OP NATIONAL LITERATUEE 145 

eras. I have already stated that the English language attained 
to a recognizable existence as a distinct individuality about the 
middle of the thirteenth century. We must now fix a period 
which is to be regarded as the birth-day of English literature. 

When then can England be said to have first possessed a na- 
tive and peculiar literature ? The mere existence of numerous 
manuscripts, in the popular dialect, belonging to any given pe- 
riod, does not prove the existence of a national literature at that 
epoch. A national literature commences only when the genius 
of the people expresses itself, through native authors, upon to- 
pics of permanent interest, in the grammatical and rhetorical 
forms best suited to the essential character of the vernacular, 
and of those who speak it. It is under such circumstances only 
that prose or poetry exerts a visible influence upon the speech, 
the tastes or the opinions of a nation, only by concurrent action 
and re-action that literature and associate life begin to stimulate 
and modify each other. In order that such effects may be pro- 
duced in a mixed people, the races which enter into the compo- 
sition of the nation, and the dialects of those races, must have, 
to a considerable extent, been harmonized and melted into one, 
and the people and the speech, though ethnologically and histo- 
rically derived from different and unallied sources, must have, 
become so far amalgamated as to excite a feeling of conscious 
individuality of nature and community of interest in the popu- 
lation, and of oneness of substazice and structure in the tongue 

In a composite nation, such a union of races and of tongues 
strange to each other, such a neutralization and, finally, assimi- 
lation of antagonist elements, can only be the eft'ect of a gradual 
interfusion and a long commingling, or of some vis ah extra 
which forces the reciprocally repellent particles into that near 
contiguity when, as in the case of magnetic bodies, repulsion 
ceases and attraction begins. 

The English political and other occasional ballads and songs 
of the thirteenth, the beginning of the fourteenth and probably 
earlier centuries, do not constitute a literature, nor would they 

L 



146 FUSION OF NATIONS AND OF DIALECTS Lect. IV. 

do SO, were they ten times more numerous, because neither the 
public to which they were addressed, nor the speech in which 
they were penned, yet possessed any oneness of spirit or of 
dialectic form, and because they were founded on events too 
circumscribed in their action, and on interests too temporary in 
their nature, to appeal to the sympathies of more than a single 
class or province or generation. 

These compositions were sometimes in Latin, sometimes in 
Norman-French, and sometimes in dialects of Saxon-English, 
which had lost all the power of poetic expression that character- 
ized the ancient Anglican tongue, without having yet acquired 
anything of the graces of diction and adaptation to versified 
composition already developed in the neighbouring Romance 
languages ; and lastly, they were sometimes macaronic. They 
cannot, therefore, be regarded as the expression of anything 
which deserves to be called the national mind, though, indeed, 
we trace in them, here and there, the germs which were soon to 
be quickened to a strong and genial growth. 

The welding heat, which finally brought the constituents of 
English nationality into a consistent and coherent mass, was 
generated by the Continental wars of Edward III. The con- 
nection between those constituents had been hitherto a political 
aggregation, not a social union ; they had formed a group of 
provinces and of races, not an entire and organized common- 
wealth. Up to this period, the Latin as the official language of 
the clergy, the Norman-French as that of the court, the nobility, 
and the multitude of associates, retainers, dependents, and trades- 
men whom the Norman Conquest had brought over to the 
island, and the native English as the speech of the people of 
Saxon descent, had co-existed without much clashing interfer- 
ence, and without any powerfully active influence upon each 
other ; and those who habitually spoke them, though apparently 
not violently hostile races, were, nevertheless, in their associa- 
tions and their interests, almost as distinct and unrelated as tho 
languages themselves. 



Lect. IV. ORIGIN OF LITERATURE 147 

There was, then, neither a national speech nor a national 
spirit, and of course there was and could be no nationcd litera- 
ture, until the latter half of the fourteenth century. True, the 
Ormulum, and the chronicles of Eobert of Gloucester, and 
Eobert of Brunne, voluminous works to be noticed hereafter, 
as well as many minor productions in the native language, 
existed earlier; but they were in no sense organic products of 
English genius, or stamped with any of the peculiarities which 
we now recognise as characteristic of the literature of England. 
We have no proof that any of these writings exerted much general 
influence in the formation of the English character or the 
English tongue, but they are important as evidences of the nature 
and amount of changes which political, social, and commercial 
causes, rather than higher intellectual impulses, had produced 
in the language and the people. 

In one aspect, then, the general subject of our course pro- 
perly begins with the age of Langlande and Wycliffe and Gower 
and Chaucer ; but we propose to make a special study of the 
language, not merely as a passive medium of literary effort, 
but as an informing element in the character of that effort ; and 
hence we must preface our more formal literary discussions 
with something more than a hasty glance at an era of blind 
and obscure influences — a stage of that organic, involuntary, 
and, so to speak, vegetal action by which the materials of our 
maternal tongue were assimilated, and its members fashioned, 
just as in animal physiology the powers of nature form the 
body and its organs before the breath of conscious life is breathed 
into them. 

In investigating the origin of a literature and the relations 
between it and the tongue which is its vehicle, it is a matter of 
much interest to ascertain the causes which have determined 
the character of the language in its earliest individualised form ; 
and we can, not unfrequently, detect the more general influences 
and their mode of operation, as certainly in the speech itself as in 
historical monuments. When, for example, we find, in follow- 

L 2 



148 CHARACTER OF EARLY ENGLISH Lect. IV. 

ing the history of a given tongue, an infusion of new words or 
idioms of a particular linguistic character, we can generally 
recognize the source from which they proceeded, with little 
danger of mistake ; and the class of words and combinations 
so borrowed will often furnish very satisfactory evidence as to 
the historical or ethnological character of the influences which 
have been operative in their introduction. If, for example, the 
vocabulary of trade, and especially of navigation, be foreign in 
its origin, there is a strong presumption that the people was not 
originally a commercial one, but that it possessed or elaborated 
natural products suited to the wants or the tastes of other 
nations, who were more addicted to traflSc and foreign inter- 
course by sea or land — and that strangers have bestowed a 
mercantile nomenclature upon those to whom they resorted for 
purchase or exchange. If the dialect of war be of alien 
parentage, it is nearly certain that the people has, at some 
period of its existence, been reduced by conquest and subjected 
to the sway of another race, or at least that it has learned, by 
often repulsing foreign invasion, effectually to resist it. If the 
phraseology of law and of religion be not of native growth, we 
may be sure that the jurisprudence and the creed of the land 
have been imposed upon it by immigrant legislators and 
teachers. 

In early Anglican linguistic and literary history, however, we 
are not left to infer the nature of the causes of change from 
their visible effects. The contemporaneous political and histo- 
rical records and monuments — or rather the materials for the 
construction of such — are so numerous and so full, that though 
we are left much in the dark with reference to the social and 
domestic life of the Norman, and more especially the Saxon 
population, and to many grammatical changes, yet the general 
relations between the Anglo-Saxon people, the Eomish mis- 
sionaries who converted them to Christianity, the Northmen 
who plundered and for a brief period ruled over them, and the 
Norman-French who finally subdued them and gradually amal- 



Lect. IV. CAUSES WHICH INFLUENCED EARLY ENGLISH 149 

gamated with them, are well understood ; and we can accord- 
ingly see in what way, though not always to what precise extent, 
each of these disturbing influences may have affected the speech 
of England. 

The difficulty of measuring and apportioning the relative 
amount of effect produced by these different causes arises from 
the fact, that although they may sometimes have neutralized 
each other, they are frequently concurrent in their action, or 
fall in with already existing tendencies inherent, as some hold, 
in the Anglo-Saxon language, but more probably impressed 
upon it by circumstances common to all the nations which have 
participated in the influences of modern European civilization. 
There are many cases in which it is quite impracticable to de- 
terniine to which of several possible causes a given effect is to 
be ascribed. With respect to these, we must content ourselves 
with a balance of probabilities ; and as to those numerous phi- 
lological data which can be historically connected with no knov/n 
older fact, a simple statement of the phenomena is, for the 
present, better than the shrewdest guess at the rationale of them. 

I shall have occasion to illustrate the Dark Age of English 
philological history, the thirteenth century, by more or less full 
references to many of its most important relics, but the attention 
of the student should be specially directed to the four most 
conspicuous monuments which serve to mark the progress of 
change from the Anglo-Saxon to the English. These are 
Layamon's Chronicle of Brutus, the Ancren Kiwle, the Ormulum, 
and Eobert of Gloucester's Chronicle. The dialect of the first 
three of these is generally called Semi-Saxon ; that of the last 
Early-English, or simply, English. Excepting the Ancren 
Kiwle, they are, unfortunately, all in verse. I say unfortunately, 
because in tracing the history of the fluctuations of language, 
prose writings are generally much more to be depended on than 
poetry. The dialect of poetry is, for rhetorical reasons, always 
more or less removed from the common speech, and the fetters 
of rhythm, metre, alliteration, and rhyme inevitably affect both 



150 POETIC DICTION Lect. IV. 

the clioice of words and the employment of inflected forms.* 
The conventional canons of verse, and the habitual .studies and 
training of poetical writers, tend to beget in them a deference 
to the authority of older models and an attachment to archaic 
modes of expression. Hence it follows that the vocabulary of 
poetry is usually in an earlier stage of development than that of 
contempora-neous prose, and especially of contemporaneous ver- 
nacular -speech, and it is consequently rather behind than in 
advance of the language of common life, and of ordinary written 
communication. We cannot, therefore, suppose that either of 
the works to which I refer presents a true picture of the language 
in which Englishmen spoke and corresponded upon the moral 
and material events and interests of their time, at the several 
periods when they were written. 

On the other hand, the diction of poetry is less subject to 
accidental and temporary disturbances than that of prose ; its 
vocabulary and S3mtax usually conform more truly to the essen- 
tial genius of the speech, and radical and abiding characteristics 
of language are more faithfully exhibited by it than by the dia- 

* Van Maerlant, a. d. 1235 — 1300, in his Leven van Franciscus, quoted by 
Bosworth, says; 

Ende, omdat ic Vlaminc hen, 

Met goeder herte biddic hen, 

Die dit Dietsche sullen lesen, 

; Dat si myns genadich wesen; 

Ende lesen sire in somich woort, 
Dat in her land es ongehoort, 
Men moet om de rime soukeu 
Misselike tonghe in bouken. 

As translated by Bowring, JBatav. AntJwl. p. 25. 

For I am Flemysh, I you beseche 
Of youre courtesye, al and eche, 
That shal thys Doche chaunce peruse; 
Unto me nat youre grace refuse ; 
And yf yc fynden any worde 
In youre countrey that ys unherde, 
Thynketh that clerkys for her ryme 
Taken an estrange worde sometyme. 
Bosworth, Origin of the Germ, and Scand. Lang. p. 101. See First 
Series, Lecture VIII., p. 175, and XVII., p. 372. 



Lect. IV. rWELFTH AND THIRTEENTH CENTURIES 151 

lect of other forms of composition, which are more affected by 
the caprices or peculiarities of the individual, or by other con- 
tingent causes. 

We shall, then, not widely err if we consider these works as 
examples, not indeed of the daily speech of their own times, 
but as following, at a considerable interval, the general move- 
ment of the English tongue, and, in the main, faithfully record- 
ing its greater mutations. 

But, as has been before observed, there is reason to believe 
that the confusion of dialects was such during almost the whole 
of the three centuries next following the Norman Conquest, 
that no one could fairly lay claim to be considered as the stand- 
ard of the national tongue. We have not the means of knowing 
how far either of the writings in question corresponded with 
some local modification of the common speech, or how far, on 
the contrary, it stands as a representative of the more general 
language of the land. Critical writers speak of particular works 
as marked by Northern, or Southern, or Western, or Northum- 
brian, or Anglian peculiarities ; but these terms are, from our 
ignorance of the local extent of such peculiarities, necessarily 
used in a vague and loose application, and it would be very 
hazardous to suppose that they have any precise geographical or 
ethnological accuracy. 

Of prose English compositions of the twelfth and thirteenth 
centuries, we have not enough in print to enable us to compare 
the poetic and prose dialects of those periods, and our knowledge 
of actual speech in the vernacular of those centuries is extremely 
limited, our conclusions based upon uncertain premises. The 
Saxon Chronicle comes down to about the year 1150. The dia- 
lect of the latter portion of it approximates to English syntax, 
but it is generally considered as unequivocally Anglo-Saxon ; 
and there are many fragments, in both prose and verse, of later 
periods, in which that language was still employed, others so 
confused in syntax, that it is very difficult to determine whether 
they are most closely related to the old language or to the new. 



152 SAXON CHRONICLE Lect. IV 

The following extract from the Saxon Chronicle will serve to 
show sufficiently the grammatical character of Anglo-Saxon at a 
period soon after the Conquest ; for though it is not certain at 
what precise date it was written, it is evidently older than the 
chapters which contain the annals of the twelfth century. 

Millesimo LXXXIII. On jnsiim geare aras seo unge]nv£ernes on 
Glaestingabyrig betwyx ]?am abbocle Durstane & his munecan. ^rest 
hit com of fass abbotes unwisdome. f he misbead his munecan on fela 
]>ingan. & pa mmiecas hit msendon Infelice to him. & beadon hine f 
he sceolde healdan hi rihtlice. & lufian hi. & hi woldon him beon 
holde & gehyrsmne. Ac se abbot nolde pees naht. ac dyde heom yfele. 
& beheot heom wyrs. Anes clasges pe abbot eode into capitulan. & 
spreec uppon ]?a mimecas. & wolde hi mistukian. & sende ^fter leewede 
mannum. & hi comon into capitulan on uppon ])a munecas full gewe- 
pnede. And J)a Avasron })a munecas swiSe aferede of heom. nj^ston 
hwet heom to donne wsere. ac toscuton. sume urnon into cyrcan & be- 
lucan ))a duran into heom. & hi ferdon sefter heom into f am mynstre. 
& woldon hig lit dragan. pa pa hig ne dorsten na ut gan. Ac reowlic 
ping peer gelamp on deeg. f pa Frencisce men br^ecen pone chor. & 
torfedon towserd ]>am weofode. pa^r pa munecas w^eron. & sume of 
pam cnihtan ferdon uppon pone uppflore. & scotedon adunweard mid 
arewan toweard pam haligdome. swa f on paere rode, pe stod bufon 
pam weofode. sticodon on maanige arewan. & pa wreccan munecas 
lagon onbuton pam weofode. & sume crupon under. & gyrne cleopedon 
to Gode. his miltse biddende. pa pa hi ne mihton nane miltse ast man- 
num begytan. Hwaet magon we secgean. buton f hi scotedon swiSe. 
& ])a o'6re pa dm-a brsecon peer adune. & eodon inn. & ofslogon sume 
pa munecas to deaSe. & maenige gewundedon pgerinne. swa f pet blod 
com of pam weofode uppon pam gradan. & of pam gradan on pa flore. 
f )reo pa^r weeron ofslagene to dea(5e. & eahtateone gewundade. 

By Thorpe's nearly literal translation of this passage, it wdll 
be seen that the construction of the period was rapidly ap- 
proaching to the modern English arrangement. Keeping this 
in mind, the student will be able to compare the text and the 
translation by the aid of these observations. 

Ungepwasrnesis from the adj ective g e p w 33 r, or p w £e r, agreei ng, 
consonant, pleasant, beyond which I can trace.no radical, nor do I re- 



Lect. TV. SAXON CHRONICLE 153 

member any probably cognate word in the Gothic languages. It is 
quite obsolete in English; — misbead is from misbeodan, comp. of 
the particle mis- and beodan, to hid, command or govern; — lufelice 
is an adverb fr'om lufian, to love, meaning here, kindly, aliectionately, 
—hold, faithful, gentle, now obsolete, but extant in the sister-tongues; 
— beheot is from behatan, to promise; — mistukian is a compound 
of mis- and tucian, to punish or discipline, obsolete in English, 
but still found in all the Gothic languages; — afered of heom, 
afraid of them; afered is a participle from afgeran, to put in 
fear ; afraid is a corruption of it; — of is not a sign of the possessive, 
but means b?/; — toscuton is from sceotan, to shoot, rush, flee; — 
urnon, from yrnan, a transpositive form of rennan, to run; 
— belucan, from belli can, to shut or lock, whence the English 
lock; — gelamp from gelimpan or limpian, to happen, noAv obso- 
lete; — torfedon, from torfian, to throw or shoot, obsolete; — weo- 
fod, altar, said to be fi'om wig, an idol, and bed, a resting-place, now 
obsolete; — rode from rod, cross, gallows, extant in rood-loft, Holy- 
rood, &c. ; — gyrne, allied to the modern yeaivi ; — miltsefrom mild, 
merciful, mild; — begytan, extant in get, beget; — eodon, imp. asso- 
ciate with gan, to go, obsolete in modern English, though still used in 
the foui'teenth century ; — sume J?a munecas, some the monks. The 
modern form, some of the monks, is a foreign idiom; — gradan, from 
grad, a step, Lat. gradus. I have no doubt that g?^ee, gris, a step,, 
which occurs in so many forms in early English, and Avhich some refer 
to a Celtic origin, is the same word, and that the Celts also took their 
term fr-om the Latin. 

Thorpe's translation is as follows : — 

An. MLXXXIII. In this year arose the discord at Glastonbmy, be- 
twixt the abbot Thurstan and his monks. It came first from the abbot's 
lack of wisdom, so that he misruled his monks in many things, and the 
monks meant it kindly to him, and prayed him that he would entreat 
them rightly, and love them, and they would be faithful to him, and 
obedient. But the abbot would naught of this, but did them evil, and 
threatened them worse. One day the abbot went into the chapter- 
house, and spake against the monks, and would misuse them, and sent 
after laymen, and they came into the chapter-house upon the monks 
full-armed. And then the monks were greatly afraid of them, knew 
not what they were to do, but fled in all directions : some ran into the 
chiu-ch and locked the doors after them ; and they went after them 
into the monastery, and would drag them out, as they durst not go out. 
But a rueful thing happened there on that day. The Frenchman broke 



154 LATAMON Lect. IV. 

into the quire, and hurled towards the altar where the monks were ; 
and some of the young ones went up on the upper floor, and kept 
shooting downward with arrows towards the sanctuary, so that in the, 
rood that stood above the altar there stuck many arrows. And the 
wretched monks lay about the altar, and some crept under, and earn- 
estly cried to God, imploring his mercy, seeing that they might not ob- 
tain any mercy from men. What can we say, but that they shot 
cruelly, and the others brake down the doors there, and went in, and 
slew some of the monks to death, and wounded many therein, so that 
the blood came from the altar upon the steps, and from the steps on the 
floor. Three were there slain to death, and eighteen wounded. 

Although this extract shows an approximation to the modern 
syntactical construction, which, as I have endeavoured to show 
in a former lecture, is in a considerable degree borrowed from 
the French, yet thus far the Saxon vocabulary had received very 
few contributions from that source. There is not a single 
French word in the whole passage, while Thorpe's translation 
contains fourteen, and eight of the Anglo-Saxon words of the 
original, with numerous compounds and derivatives from the 
same roots, have become entirely obsolete. 

The work of Layamon, or perhaps Lag anion — for we do not 
know the sound of the 5 in this name — is a versified chronicle 
of the early fabulous history of Britain and its ancient royal 
dynasty. It commences with the destruction of Troy and the 
flight of ^neas, from whom descended Brutus, the founder of 
the British monarchy, and extends to the reign of Athelstan. 
The authorities on which Layamon founds his narrative, as he 
himself states, are ^ the English book that St. Beda made ' 
(meaning probably King Alfred's Anglo-Saxon translation of 
Beda's Ecclesiastical History, from which however, he seems to 
have borrowed little), two v/riters, Albinus and Austin, who are 
not known to have produced any historical works, — though Bede 
acknowledges his obligations to the former for materials furnished 
him for the composition of his Ecclesiastical History of England; 
and lastly and chiefly, a third ' book, that a French clerk hight 
"Wace made,' This latter work is the romance of Brut, trans- 



Lect. IV. LATAMON 155 

lated by Wace or Grasse, into Norman-French, from Geoffrey of 
Monmouth's Latin History of the Britons, and completed, as 
appears by the concluding couplet of the poem, in the year 
1155. 

Layamon has enlarged upon his original, for the version 
of Wace contains but 15,300 lines, while Layamon's work 
extends to more than 32,000, though, as the lines in the 
latter are shorter than the octo-syllabic verse of Wace, the 
quantity of matter is not twice as great. Some unimportant 
passages of Wace are omitted, and much is added. The addi- 
tions by Layamon are the finest parts of the work, almost the 
only part, in fact, which can be held to possess any poetical 
merit. We have not the means of ascertaining how far these 
are of Layamon's own invention, for he occasionally refers, in 
a vague way, to other ^ books ' as authorities for his narratives, 
and it is probable that many of the incidents were borrowed 
from older and now forgotten legends. In general, however, 
the work has more the air of an original than of a translation. 
It seldom conforms closely to the text of Vface, and it has a 
comparative elevation of diction, of thought, and of imagery, 
which entitles it to a higher rank than that work, and stamps it 
as a production of some literary merit. 

. The versification is irregular, sometimes unrhymed and allite- 
rative, like tha;t of the Anglo-Saxons, and sometimes rhymed 
like that of Wace ; sometimes merely rhythmical, sometimes 
in lines composed of regular feet, thus showing, in the structure 
of the verse as well as in the syntax, evidences of Norman influ- 
ence. The two systems of versification are intermixed, both 
occurring sometimes in a single couplet, and the employment of 
neither rests on any discoverable principle, except that of mere 
convenience to the writer. The rhymed lines bear but a small 
proportion to the alliterative, and in general the rhythm follows 
that of Anglo-Saxon models. It is remarkable that asso- 
nance, or correspondence of vowels while the consonants dififer, 
elsewhere hardly known in English verse, is much used. 



156 LAYAMON Lect. IV. 

These remarkable discrepancies in versification suggest a 
doubt whether the chronicle of Layamon is to be regarded as an 
entire work, and not rather as the production of several different 
hands, whose labours have been collected and fashioned into a 
whole by later editors and copyists. But the plan has too much 
unity to render this supposition probable, and the lapse of time 
between the completion of Wace's poem and the date of the 
oldest manuscript of Layamon is too short to allow of a succes- 
sion of independent translators. It is, however, by no means 
unlikely that Layamon availed himself of versions by earlier 
writers, who translated directly from Greoffrey of Monmouth, 
and this may serve in some degree to explain the want of uni- 
formity in his verse. 

There is neither internal nor external evidence by which the 
date of the poem can be fixed with exact precision, but there 
are allusions to events which occurred late in the twelfth 
century ; and, on the other hand, the character of the diction 
and grammar justify us in saying that it could scarcely have 
been written after the commencement of the thirteenth. 

It appears from the prologue, that Layamon resided at Ernley 
in North Worcestershire, and it is hence argued that the dialect 
in which he wrote was characteristic of that region. This is too 
slight evidence to establish a probability that he confined him- 
self to the dialect of a shire, of which he may not have been a 
native and where his residence may have been short, and the 
external proof upon this point is not entitled to much con- 
sideration. 

" There exists a manuscript of Layamon, which appears to have 
been written about the beginning of the thirteenth century, and 
was therefore nearly contemporaneous with the author. In the 
want of evidence to the contrary, we are authorised to presume 
that this manuscript gives us the work substantially as Layamon 
wrote it. There is also extant a manuscript supposed to be 
only half a century, or thereabouts, younger. This exhibits 
differences too great to be explained upon the supposition of a 



Lect. IV. LAYAMON 157 

general change in the syntax of the language in so brief a 
period, and which moreover are not easily reconciled with any 
theory of the characteristics of local dialects. We must con- 
clude, either that this manuscript belongs to a later period than 
that assigned to it by the critics, that the dialect of the oMer 
manuscript was much behind its time, or that there were two 
nearly contemporaneous dialects in more widely different states 
of progress, than we should infer from any other evidence. 

The inflectional and syntactical character of Layamon I shall 
discuss in remarks upon the passages I cite by way of illustra- 
tion, and I will here barely notice what is perhaps the most 
remarkable, though not the most important, peculiarity in the 
grammar of Layamon — the use of the possessive pronoun Ms 
as a sign of the possessive case, as when, in more modern 
English, it was not unusual to write Jolin his hook, instead of 
John^s hook. As I have somewhat fully examined this point in 
my former series of Lectures on the English Language, I will 
not now again enter upon it.* 

Although the Chronicle of Layamon still retains a large 
proportion of the Anglo-Saxon inflectional forms, yet it approx- 
imates so closely to modern English in structure of period, that 
no previous grammatical study is required to read it. The glos- 
sarial index of the admirable edition published by Sir Frederic 
Madden in 1857, contains all the stem-forms and all the inflec- 
tions, with references to the passages where they occur ; so that, 
with this help and that of the notes, not to speak of the trans- 
lation which accompanies the text, any person of ordinary 
intelligence may peruse it with entire ease and satisfaction. 

The specimens I select for illustration of Layamon's dic- 
tion and grammar are among his additions to Wace. The 
first consists of what Sir Frederic Madden calls : ' The amusing 
and dramatic passages relative to the Irish, and their conflict 
with the Britons.' The second and third are characterized by 

* See First Series, Lecture XVIII., p. 401, and note at the end of the lecture. 



158 



LAYAMON 



Lect. IV. 



the same editor as : ' the highly curious passage [s] regarding 
the fairy elves at Arthur's birth, and his transportation by them 
after death in a boat to Avalon, the abode of Argante, their 
queen.' They will not give the reader so high an opinion of 
Layamon's genius as some of his critics have entertained, and in 
fact his merits as a translator seem to be greater than his power 
as an original writer. 

In the following examples, the first column exhibits the oldest 
known text, believed to be of Layamon's own time, or very near 
it ; the second, as has been observed, is thought to have been 
written about half a century later. The points are prosodical, 
not marks of punctuation. 



per ifah Gillomar i 

Whar him com Vther. 

& haihde hif cnihtes i 

to wepne forS rihtes. 

& heo to-biliue i 

& gripen heore cniues. 

& of raid here breches f 

feolcii!5 weoren heore lechef. 

& igripen on heore hond i 

heore fperen longe. 

hengen an heore eexle '. 

mucle Avi-a3xe. 

pa faside Gillomar Jie king f 

a fwi(5e feollic ])ing. 

Her cumeS VSer i 

Aurilies broder. 

he wule bidden mi griS i 

& noht fehten me wi6. 

\>Si formefte beoS hif fweines J 

fare we heom to-^eines. 

ne purfe je nauere rehchen i 

]>ah je flsen Ipsb wrecclien. 

For jif Vther Coflantinef funef 

wulle her mi mon bicume. 

& Paffente ajeiien '. 

hif fader riche. 



po i-feh Gillomar i 
war hi com Vther. 
and helite his cnihtes i 
wepni heom forfrihtef. 
And hii to-bliue i 
neomen hire cniues, 



and gripen on hire honde i 
hire speres longe. 



po faide Gillomar ])e king i 
a fwi]7e fellich ]nng. 
Her come}) Vther i 
Aurelie his bro])er. 
he wole bidde, min grij) i 
and noht filite me wi]>. 



And jef Vther Conflantines fbne t 
wole her mi man bi-come. 



Lect. IV. 



LAYAMON 



159 



icli liine wnllen griSien t 

& latten liine linien. 

<fe inne fasire beden i 

Iseden Line to mine londe. 

]>e king wordede ]ms, i 

]}a while him a-lomp wurf. 

Weoren Vtheres cnihtes i 

at pan tune forS rihtes. 

leidei^fur a pene tun ' 

& fehten biliue. 

mid Aveorden heom to rakeden '. 

and ])a Irifce weoren nakede. 

pa ifejen Irifce me ' 

pat Brutten wes an eorneft. 

feondliche heo fuht ' 

and neo(5eles heo feoUen. 

heo cleopede on heore king i 

Whar £ert ]ni niSing. 

whi nult jni hider wenden t 

\)U lezfh ufher fcenden. 

and Paffent pin ij-ere i 

ifih us fallen here. 

cume(5 us to halpe ' 

mid hahjere ftreng'Se. 

pif iherde Gillomar' 

per foren wes hif heorte faer. 

mid hif Irifce cnihten i 

he com to pan fihte. 

and PalTend vorS mid him i 

beien heo weoren uccie. 

pa ifeh V5er i 

pat icumen wes per Gillomar, 

to him he gon riden ' 

and fmat hine i pere fide. 

pat pat fpere purh rade i 

& pa heorte to-glad. 

Hijendliche he hine biwet i 

& of-toc Paffent. 

and pas word sagide i 

Vther pe fele. 

Paffent pu fcalt abiden i 



ich hine wolle gripie i 
and lete hine libbe. 
and in faire bendes i 
him lede to mine londe. 
pe kig wordede pus i 
pe wile hit bi-fulle worf. 
Weren Vther his chnihtes? 
in pan toune forprihtes. 
and fetten fur oueral i 
in bour and in hal. 
and fafte to gam rakede f 
and hii were alle nakede. 
po i-fehge Yriffe men i 



pat hii puffe fullen. 

hii gradde to hire king i 

War hart pou niping. 

wi nelt pou hider wende i 

pou leteil vs alle afende. 



pis ihorde Gillomar i 

])ar vore his heort was for. 

mid his Yreffe cnihtes i 

he com to pan fihte. 

and Pafcent forp mid him i 

beine hii weren veie. 

po ifeh Yther f 

pat icome was Gillomar. 

to him he gan ride ' 

and fmot hi in pan fide. 

pat pe fpere porh-rod i 

and pe heorte to-glod. 

Hijenliche he hine bi-went • 

of- took he fone Pafcent. 

and peos word faide i 

Vther pe faele. 

Pafcent wi nelt abide ! 



160 



LATAMON 



Lect. IV. 



her cume^ Vtlier riden. 

He fmat hine uuenen J^at liaeued i 

]7at he adun halde. 

and J»at fweord putte in his mutJ i 

swulc mete him wes nncu3, 

pat ]?e ord of fan sworde i 

wod in ]?ere eorSe. 

pa foeide Yther i 

Paflent lij nu J>er. 

nu ])u hauell Brutlond f 

al bi-tald to ]?ire hond. 

Swa 'pe if nn ireed i 

J)er on ])u sert ded. 

■wikien ^e fcullen here i ^ 

]?u and Gillomar ]nn ifere. 

& brnkeS wel Brutlod i. 

for nu ic hit bitasche inc an hond. 

]7at git magen to-jere i 

mid uf wunien here. 

ne purue Je nauere adrede S 

wha eou fcullen feden. 

puf faside Vder i 

and seo^Se he arnde fer. 

and drof Irifce men i 

jeond wateres and jeond fenes. 

and floh al ]7a uerde ' 

"pe mid Paffent commen to eerde. 

Summe to fere sse iwiten i 

& leoppen in heore fcipen. 

mid wederen & mid wateren J 

paer heo forferden. 

puf heo ifpsedden her i 

Paffent and Gillomar. 



her comef Yther ride. 

He fmot hine ouenon fat heued i 

fat he ful to pan grunde. 

and fat fweord f ut in his muf i 

foch mete him was oncouf , 

fat f e ord of f e fweord i 

wond in fan eorf e. 

po faide Vther i 

Pafcent ly nou far. ^ 

nou f ou haueft Brutlond i 

al awonne to fin hond. 



"vvonief nou here i 

f ou an Gillomare. 

and broukef wel Brutlond i 

for nou je hit habbef an hond. 



ne f erh he noht drede i 
fat 50U fal feode. 



pus i-fped here f 
Pafcent and Gillomare, 
Layamon, 11. pp. 332—336. 



The next specimen is from vol. ii. pp. 384, 385. 



pe time co f e wes icoren i 
fa wes ArSur iboren. 
Sone fwa he com an eorSe i 
aluen hine iuengen. 



pe tyme com fat was icore i 
f o was Arf ur ibore. 
Sone fo he to worle com J 
aluene him onderfenge. 



1 



Lect. IV. 



LAYAMON 



161 



heo bigolen ])at child i 
mid galdere AviSe ftroDge. 
lieo geue him mihte ' 
to beon bezll aire crdhten. 
heo geuen him an 0(5er ping ' 
fat he fcolde beon riche king, 
heo jiuen hi j^at Jridde ' 
pat he scolde longe libben. 
heo sifen him pat kine-bern i 
cnften fwi'Se gode. 
pat he wes mete-cufti i 
of alle qnikemonnen. 
pis pe alne him gef i 
and al fwa pat child ipash. 



and ^euen him mihte i 
to beon beft aire cnihte. 
hii geuen him an oper ping t 
pat he folde beo riche king, 
hii geuen him pat pridde '. 
pat he folde lange libbe. 
hii jenen pane beorn i 
geftes fwipe gode. 
pat he wes mete-cufti i 
of alle cwike manne. 
pis pe alfe him geaf f 
and al fo pat child i-peh. 



The following passage is from vol. iii. pp. 142 — 146. 



per wes Modred of-slage i 
and idon of lif-daje. 

in pan lilite. 
per weoren of-flaje i 
alle pa fnelle. 
Arduref hered-men i 
hese. 

and pa Bruttef alle i 
of Ar^urcf borde. 
and alle hif fofterlTges i 
of feole kinerichef. 
And ArSur forwunded i 
mid Aval-fpere brade. 
fiftene he hafde ' 
feondliche wunden. 
mon mihte i pare laften i 
twa glouen iprafte. 
pa naf per na mare i 
i pan fehte to lane, 
of twa hundred pusend monnen f 
pa per leien to-hauwe. 
buten Art5ur pe king ane i 
& of hifcnihtef tweien. 



par was Modred of-flaje t 
and idon of lif-daje. 
and alle his cnihtes i 
iilaje in pan iihte. 
par weren of-flage i 
alle pe fnelle. 
Arthures hiredmen i 
hehje and lowe. 
and pe Bruttes alle f 
of Arthur his borde. 
and alle hi. fofterlin. .s i 

of ne riche. 

And him seolf for-w « 

mid one Ipere brode. 

. . . tene he hadde i 

feond .. che wond.. 

man mihte in pan leafte i 

two gloues preafte. 

po naf par na more i 

ileued in pan fihte. 

of two hundred pousend nqanne i 

pat par lay to-hewe. 

bote Arthur pe king i 

and twei of hif cnihtes. 



M 



162 



LAYAMON 



Lect. IV, 



Arc5nr wes for-wunded i 

wunder aiie fwiSe. 

"per to him com a cnaue 5 

]>e wes of hif cimne. 

he wef Cadoref fune i 

ye eorlef of Corwaile. 

Conftantin hehte ]>e cnaiie i 

he wef fan kinge deore. 

Ar'ciir him lokede on i 

]?er he lai on folden. 

and pas word feide i 

mid sorhfuUe heorte. 

Coft£etin ])u art wilcmiie i 

])u weore Cadoref fone. 

ich ]?e bitache here t 

mine kineriche. 

and wite mine Bruttef i 

a to ]7inef lifef 

and hald heom alle pa la^en i 

pa habbeo^ iftonden a mine dagen, 

and alle pa lagen gode i 

pa bi YSeref dagen ftode. 

And ich wuUe uaren to Aualu i 

to naireft aire maidene. 

to Argante pere quene i 

aluen fwi^e fceone. 

& heo flal mine wunden i 

maiden alle ifmide. 

al hal me makien '. 

mid haleweije drechen. 

And feo^e ich cumen wulle J 

to mine kineriche. 

and wunien mid Brutten t 

mid mnchelere wmme. 

iEfne pan worden i 

per com of fe wenden. 

pat wes an sceort bat liSen 5 

fceonen mid v'Sen. 

and twa wimme per inne i 

wunderliche idihte. 

and heo nomen Arbur ana i 



Arthur was for-wonded i 
wonderliche fwipe. 
par com a ^ong cnane i 
pat was of his cimne. 
he was Cador his fone i 
eorl of CornAvale. 
Conftantin he hehte i 
pe king hine louede. 
pe king to him bi-heold f 

and peos word faide. 

Constantin pou hart wilcome ! 
pou were Cador.. s f.ne. 
ich pe bi-take here ' 
mine kineriche. 
and wite mine Bruttus f 
wel bi pine Hue. 



And ich woUe wende to Anelun i 

to Argant pare cweane. 

and 5eo fal mine wondes f 

ma al ifunde. 

al iei 

mid halewei 

.nd fuppe ich .Jen 5 

to mine 



Eafiie pan .... 
..r com of fee wende. 
a lu... fort bot i 
wandri mid p.. beres. 

and two wimm ineS 

wonderliche igynned. 
men Arthur anont 



Lect. IV. 



LAYAi'.ION 



163 



and aneoiifte liinc ueredcii. 
and fofte liine admi leiden ' 
& for(S gunnen liine liSen. 
pa wef liit hvurt)en ' 
])at M'lin feide ^vhilen. 
];at Aveore miimeto care ' 
(jf Avf)V.Te{ forS-fare. 
Bnittcf ileiieS jete i 
j)at lie bon on line, 
and wunnien in Analim i 
mid fliireft aire aluen. 
and lokie'o euere Buttef gcte 
Avlian ArSnr cume liSe. 
Nif nauer j^e men ibore ' 
of nauer nane bnrde icoren. 
])Q cnnne of ])an fo5e i 
of ArSure fugen mare. 
Bute while wef an witeje i 
Mrerlin ihate. 
he bodcdc mid worde i 
hif quidef v.'coren foSe. 
])at an Ar5ur fculde %ete i 
cum An2;len to fulfte. 



an. ..])an bote bere. 

and hine foht. .dun leyde t 

and for]) ...gan wende. 

po "was onde i 

]?at jMcrlyn faide wile. 

])at folde been mochel care i 

after Arthures for]:'-fare. 

Brutt.. ileue]) ^ete i 

]7at ha be. on Hue. 

and w.nie in Auailun i 

mid efte aire cwene. 



Nas neuere ]?e man ibore t 

ne of womman icore. 

pat conne of pan fope i 

of Arthur fegge more. 

Bote wile was a witti i 

Merlin ihote. 

he faide mid wordes i 

his fajef were fope. 

pat Arthur folde gite i 

come Bruttef ... for to healpe. 



In the nouns, the earlier text shows a gradual, not an abrupt, 
departure from the Anglo-Saxon inflectional system, the later 
copy a much wider divergence, and a confusion of forms which 
is more embarrassing to the syntax than the dropping of the 
case-endings altogether would have been. The most obvious 
changes in the inflections and construction of nouns are that in 
both texts the plural in s is very freely used, and that, in the 
later, the preposition of is employed with the genitive, or, with 
a stem-form of the noun, as a sign of the genitive. 

In the adjective, the distinction between the definite and in- 
definite forms is generally observed, though not unfrequently 
neglected. 

The personal pronouns are, in the main, substantially the 
same as in Anglo-Saxon, but the dual form of none of them 
occurs in the later text. 

M 2 



164 LAYAMON Lect. IV. 

The conjugation of the verb in most points resembles the in- 
flection of the same part of speech in Anglo-Saxon, but the 
infinitive, which in the later text drops the characteristic n, 
commonly takes the preposition to, and the gerund is, not 
unfrequently, confounded with the infinitive on one side, and 
the active participle in -nde on the other. The plural verb in- 
dicative present has generally the ending -e^, except when the 
pronoun of the first or second person follows its verb, in which 
case it ends in -6, or sometimes in -en. 

Some instances of the confounding of the active participle 
with the verbal noun in -inge are met with, but these are rare, 
and in fact the participle is not of frequent occurrence in either 
text. But perhaps the most important novelty in Layamon's 
construction of the verb is the regular employment of vjill and 
shall as technical auxiliaries. In both texts, as will be seen by 
the extracts, they are used almost precisely as in modern 
English, and indeed with a closer conformity to the present 
practice than is found in many works of even as late a date as 
the fourteenth century. 

These are the general characteristics of Layamon's syntax, 
but there are certain specific points in the diction and grammar 
of the passages above quoted which merit more particular 
notice. 

In the first extract : 

to-biliue, quickly, in a lively manner, common in old English, but 
now obsolete; — seolcuS, sel-couth, seldom known, strange, obsolete ; 
— Avi-83xe, battle-axe, from wig, war, obsolete; — swiSe, very, ob- 
solete; — seollic, obsolete, at least in this sense, though probably allied 
to A.-S. gesselig, prosperous, and to the modeiii silly; — griS, 
peace, obsolete; — formeste, foremost. This word is often used in the 
sense oi first ^ and is, probably, etymologically identical with it; — ]?ur- 
fen, obsolete, but perhaps allied to dare. The two words coincide in 
some of the Gothic languages; — rich en, realm, obsolete, though allied 
to rich; — gri'Sien, to spare, pardon, make peace with, obsolete; — 
wordede, imp. This verb does not occur in Anglo-Saxon, nor is it 
found in the Ancren Riwle, in the Ormulum, or in Coleridge's Glossa- 



LEcr. IV. LAYAMON 165 

rial Index. It seems to be a coinage of Laj^amon's wliicli failed to ob- 
tain circulation, tliougli it has been revived in later ages as a participial 
adjective, and even as a verb; — a-lomp, imp. from a- limp i an, to 
happen, obsolete; — to-rakeden, from raken, to rush, obsolete; — 
feondliche, with fmy or hate, from feond, an enemy, whence 
fiend, obsolete; — nit^ing, Icel. ni'Singr, craven, obsolete; — seen den, 
to disgrace, to destroy, obsolete; — if ere, companion, obsolete; — ua^ie, 
fated, Sc. fey, obsolete. Fatatns is used in mediteval Latin, andfsege 
is found, though rarely, in Anglo-Saxon. Historically, ueeie, as Avell as 
A.-S. fajge, doubtless comes from Icel. feigr, fated, which does not 
seem to be in any Avay allied to fatum; — sele, good, obsolete; — 
riden, her cume'5 Vther riden, ridden, ridingly. Riden is here 
not the active, but the passive participle, in analogy with the German, 
er kommt geritten. See Lecture II., Illustration II; — halde, imp. 
from hcElden, halden, to sink or fall, obsolete, except, perhaps, in 
the nautical term to heel; — uncud, unknown, extant in uncouth, in a 
different, but derivative sense; — ord, point, obsolete; — wod, went, 
obsolete; — bi-tald, from bi-tellen, to win or prove, obsolete, unless 
we suppose it to be the modern verb tell, so that bi-tald would mean 
told-off, counted, and hence, delivered; — irsed, happened, obsolete; — 
wikien, to dwell, obsolete; — brukep, from bruken, to use, obsolete; 
— inc, dual, you two, obsolete; — arnde, imp. from urn en, trans- 
positive form of A.-S. r ennan, to run. In the Glossarial Notes, how- 
ever, Sir F. Madden expresses the opinion that arnde is from sernan, 
a causative form of urn en, signifying to ride; — uerde, ferde, host, 
army, obsolete; — i wit en, from i- wit en, to flee, perish, obsolete; — 

In the second extract : 

icoren, chosen, obsolete; — iuengen, part, from fengen, to take, 
obsolete; — bigolen, enchanted, obsolete; — gal d ere, magic, obsolete; 
— kine-bern, child, obsolete; — custen, gifts, conditions, obsolete, 
but perhaps allied to choose; — mete-custi, liberal, or rather hospit- 
able. Sir F. Madden ascribes no special force to mete in this com- 
poimd, but, as in the corresponding Icelandic matarmildr, matar- 
go'Sr, matgoSr, it means meat, and the signification is, generous of 
food, hospitable. It is obsolete; — i-]?3eh, imp. from iJ)eon, to thrive, 
obsolete ; — 

In the third extract : 

snelle, active, brave, obsolete, — hered-men, attendants, coui'tiers, 
retainers, from A.-S. hired, hyred, a family, a royal court. The 



166 LAYAMON Lkct. IV. 

compound ?nred-mcm, so common in America, tlioiigli more probably a 
new word from the verb to hire and jnan, may, possibly, have come 
down from the A.-S. hired-man, Icel. hir'5-ma'5r. The word is 
otherwise obsolete; — feole, Icel, feil, many, obsolete; — wal-spere, 
from wal, w£el, carnage, death, a dead body, and spere, spear. 
Wal, in Icel. valr, is the first element in valkyria, chooser of 
tlic slain. Wal is obsolete; — cnihtes, Ger. hnecht, knight s, 
soldiers; — cnaue, Ger. knabe, boy, servant, knave; — cunne, dat. 
of cnn, kin; — folden, ground, obsolete, unless poiisibly extant 
in fallow; — bitache, commit, deliver. Take often has this sense 
in old English; — wite, govern, rule, obsolete; — slal, error of scribe 
for seal; — hale-Avei^e, balsam. Madden thinks this word is from 
hajl, heahng, and hwo3g, whey. It is obsolete; — drench en, a cau- 
sative from drinchen, to drink. At least this is quite as probable as 
tlfat it means to bathe. The noun drench is still used in an analogous 
sense. Seo^e, si then, since; — wunien, to dwell, Ger. wohnen, 
obsolete in this sense, but extant in ivont, ivonted; — wunne, bliss, 
Ger. Wonne, obsolete; — vSen, waves, obsolete; — nomen, imp. 
from nimen, to take; — aneouste, quickly, from A.-S. neah, near, 
obsolete; — gunnen, from gon, gan, old Engl, gaji, often used as an 
auxiliary to form the past tense; — li'Sen, to go or come, obsolete; — 
iwurScn, Ger. geworden, come to pass, used in old English, but 
now obsolete; — unimete, immeasurable, extant in unmeet; — ileueS, 
believe; — burde, woman, extant in bride; — wite^e, A.-S. witega, 
prophet, sage, from witan, to know, obsolete;- — bodede, from bo di en, 
to say; — .qui'Ses, words, allied to quoth; — fulste, fulsten, aid, 
obsolete. 

In the orthography, the remarkable change from hw, initial, to ivh 
occurs. There are a few examples of this transjDOsition in earlier ma- 
nuscripts, but I believe it was not regularly used by any ^viiter before 
the time of Layamon. 

In the above extracts no v/ord of Latin or French etymology 
occurs, unless we adopt the improbable supposition that care, 
A.-S. caru, cearu, is from the Latin cur a. Madden's trans- 
lation contains twenty Latin and French v/ords, exclusive of 
repetitions. At least fifty of the words employed by Layamon 
in these few verses are wholly obsolete. 

Sir F. Madden's translation of these passages is subjoined. 
Words and phrases included in quotation-marks are in the 



Lect. IV. LAYAMON 167 

earlier, but not in the later text; words in brackets are the 
variations of the later text. 
First extract : 

There [Then] saw Gillomar where Uther came to him, and com- 
manded his knights to weapon [them] forth-right. And they very 
speedily grasped [took] their knives, ' and off with their breeches — 
strange were their looks,' — and grasped in their hands their long spears, 
' and hmig on their shoulders great battle-axes.' Then said Gillomar 
the king a thing very strange: — "Here cometh Uther, Aiirelies [Aure- 
lie his] brother ; he will ask my peace, and not fight with me. ' The 
foremost are his swains ; march me against them ; ye need never reck, 
though 3^e slay the wretches ! ' For [And] if Uther, Constantines son, 
will here become my man, ' and give to Pascent his fathers realm,' I 
will him grant peace, and let him live, and in fair bonds lead him to 
my land." The king spake thus, the while worse hira [it] befell ! 
Uthers [Uther his] knights were in the to^^ai forth-right, [and] laid 
[set] fire in the town, and fought sharply ; with swords [over all, in 
bower and in hall, and fast] rushed towards them ; and the Irish [they] 
were [all] naked. When the Irish men saw, that ' the Britons were in 
conflict, they fought fiercely, and ' nevertheless [thus] they fell ; they 
called on [to] their king: "Where art thou, ni thing ! why wilt thou 
not come hither ? thou lettest us here [all] be destroyed ; — ' and 
Pascent, thy comrade, saw us fall here; — come ye to us to help, with 
great strength ! '" GiUomar heard this ; therefore his heart was sore ; 
with his Irish knights he came to the fight, and Pascent forth with him 
— both they were fated ! When Uther saw, that Gillomar was 'there* 
come, to him he gan ride, and smote him in the side, so that the spear 
through pierced, and ghded to the heart. Hastily he passed by him, 
and [he soon] overtook Pascent ; and said these words Uther the good: 
" Pascent, thou shalt [why wilt thou not] abide ; here cometh Uther 
riding!" He smote him upon the head, so that he fell down [to the 
ground], and the sword put in his mouth — such meat to him was 
strange, — so that the point of the sword went in the earth. Then said 
Uther: "Pascent, he now there; now thou hast Britain all won to thy 
hand ! ' So is now hap to the ; therein thou art dead ; ' dwell ye shall 
[now] here, thou, and Gillomar ' thy companion,' and possess well 
Britain ! For now I dehver it to you [ye it have] in hand, ' so that ye 
may presently dwell with us here ; ' ye need not ' ever ' dread who you 
shall feed! " * Thus said Uther, and afterv/ards he there ran, and drove 
the Irish men over waters and over fens, and slew all the host that with 



168 LAYAMON Lect. IV. 

Pascent came to land. Some to the sea fled, and leapt into their ships; 
with weather and with water there they perished ! ' Thus they ' sped ' 
here, Pascent and Gillomar. 

Second extract : 

The time came that was chosen, then was Arthur born. So soon as 
he came on earth [in the world], elves took [received] him; 'they en- 
chanted the child Avith magic most strong,' they [and] gave him" might 
to be the best of all knights ; they gave him another thing, that he 
should be a rich king ; they gave him the third, that he should live 
long; they gave to him the prince [the child] virtues [gifts] most good, 
so that he was most generous of all men alive. This the elves gave 
him, and thus the child thrived. 

Third extract : 

There were slain all the brave, Arthurs warriors, high and low, and 
all the Britons of Arthurs [Arthur his] board, and all his dependants, 
of many kingdoms [a kingdom]. And Arthur [himself] wounded with 
[a] broad ' slanghter-'spear ; iifteen dreadful wounds he had ; in the 
least one might thrust two gloves ! Then was there no more remained 
in the fight, of two hundred thousand men that there lay hewed in 
pieces, except Arthur the king ' alone,' and two of his knights. Arthur 
was wounded wondrously much. There came *to him' a [young] lad, 
who was of his kindred; he was Cadors [Cador his] son 'the' earl ot 
Cornwall; Constantine the lad [he] hight, he was dear to the king [the 
king him loved]. Arthur looked on [The king beheld] him, ' where 
he lay on ^/le ground,' and said these Avords, 'with sorrowful heart': 
"Constantine, thou art welcome; thou wert Cadors [Cador his] son. 
I give thee here my kingdom, and defend thou my Britons ever in 
[well by] thy life, ' and maintain them all the laws that have stood in 
my days, and all the good laws that in Uthers days stood.' And I will 
fare to Avalun, ' to the fairest of all maidens,' to Argante the queen, 
' an elf most fair,' and she shall make my wounds all sound ; make me 
all whole with healing draughts. And afterwards I will come [again] 
to my kingdom, ' and dwell with the Britons with mickle joy'." Even 
with the words there approached from the sea 'that was' a [little] short 
boat, floating with the waves; and two women therein, wondrously 
formed ; and they took Arthur anon, and bare him quickly [to the 
boat], and laid him softly down, and forth they gan depart. Then was 
it accomplished that Merlin whilom said, that mickle care (sorrow) 
should be of [after] Arthurs departure. The Britons believe yet that 



Lect. IV. THE ANCREN EIWLE 169 

he is alive, and dwelletli in Avalun with the fairest of all elves [queens] ; 
' and the Britons ever yet expect when Arthur shall return.' Was 
never the man born, [nor] of ever any lady [woman] chosen, that 
knoweth of the sooth, to say more of Arthur. But whilom was a sage 
hight Merlin; he said with words, — his sayings were sooth, — that 'an' 
Arthur should yet come \_here for] to help the English [Britons]. 

AiiQther monument of little literary interest, but of not in- 
ferior philological, or, to speak more accurately, lexical and 
grammatical importance, is the Ancren Eiwle, a code of monastic 
precepts drawn up in prose by an unknown author, for the 
guidance of a small nunnery, or rather religious society of 
ladies. This work was probably composed if not in the latter 
part of the twelfth, at latest very early in the thirteenth century, 
and is therefore nearly contemporaneous with the chronicle of 
Layamon, to the earlier text of which it bears much resemblance. 
The learned editor of the only printed edition, that published 
by the Camden Society in 1853, says nothing of the probable 
age of his manuscript, but Wright, Eel. Ant. i. Q5, states it to 
be of the middle of the thirteenth century. There are at least 
three other manuscripts, besides a Latin translation, and one of 
the English copies is described as older than that from which 
the Camden Society's edition is printed. They differ from each 
other considerably in orthography, and these differences — some 
of which no doubt, were due to successive changes in the current 
modes of spelling — and the multiplication of copies of a work 
intended for the private use of three ladies, not members of any 
religious order, prove that it must have been written a consider- 
able length of time before the execution of the latest manu- 
script. I believe, therefore, that it may be considered as 
belonging to the literature of the twelfth, quite as appropriately 
as to that of the thirteenth century. 

About one third of the Ancren -Eiwle is occupied with in- 
structions for ceremonial observances, the residue with moral 
and religious teachings. Like so many other ascetic treatises of 
the Middle Ages, whether intended for the edification of the 



170 THE ANCPiEN KIWLE Lect. IV. 

professed recluse or of the layman, it contains little of dogmatic 
theology, and few of those broader views of Christian duty 
which belong to the contemplation of man as what Grod made 
him — a social being. Hence it has neither the philosophical 
reach of thought Avhich characterizes the works of WyclifFe and 
Pecock, and which is a natural result of free tlieological inquiry, 
nor the enlightened philanthropy and comprehensive charity, 
which breathe from the writings of divines emancipated from 
the narrow corporate interests and exclusive duties of cloistered 
life. 

In a literary point of view, it has no such value as to entitle 
it to critical notice, and, bearing no stamp of English birth-right 
but its dialect, it is only for the value of its vocabulary and its 
syntax that I embrace it in my view of English philological 
history. Details on these points will be given in connection 
with the specimen selected as an illustration, and I shall at 
pi-esent confine my observations to the stock of words which 
compose its vocabulary. The most obvious difference in this 
respect between Layamon and the Ancren Eiwle is the much 
larger proportion of Latin and Norman words in the latter. 
Sir Frederick Madden finds less than one hundred such in the 
57,000 verses of the two texts of Layamon.* The quantity of 
matter in the Ancren Riwle, exclusive of Latin quotations, is 
less than half of that in Layamon, but the glossary to the 
former contains twice as many French words as Layamon, and 
yet omits a large number because they were thought too familiar 
to need explanation. Much of this difference in vocabulary is 

^^ If we number words derived from the French (oven including some that may 
have come directly from the Latin), we do not find in the earlier text of Layamon's 
poem so many as fifty, several of which were in usage, as appears by the Saxon 
Chronicle, previous to the middle of the twelfth century, Of this number the 
later text retains about thirty, and adds to them rather more than forty, which are 
not found in the earlier version ; so that if Ave reckon ninety words of French 
origin in both texts, containing together more than 56,800 lines, we shall be able 
to form a tolerably correct, estimate how little the English language was really 
affected by foreign converse, even as late as the middle of the thirteei;th century. 
Sir F. Madden, Prof, to Layamon, vol. i. p. xxiii. 



Lect. IV. THE ANCEEN RIWLE 171 

doubtless to be ascribed to the fact tliat tbe Ancren Eiwle, 
treating of religious subjects, naturally adopted the dialect of 
the Eomish ascetic discipline, which wa,s in great part of Latin 
derivation ; but still, as the Ancren Eiwle was written in English, 
while Layamon's work was translated from French and Latin, 
we should have expected a larger relative share of the foreign 
element in the latter production than a comparison of the two 
exhibits. The Latin and French words of the Ancren Eiwle, 
however, are by no means all due to its religious character, and 
we find in it many Norman terms belonging to the common 
dialect of secular life. Compound words of Saxon etymology 
are less frequent in Layamon than in the latter work, which has 
some remarkable agglutinations, such, for example, as stude- 
stapeluestnesse, meaning nearly what N. P. Willis some- 
where calls stay-at-home-itiveness, the otKovpla of the Grreeks. 
This greater frequency of Norman v/ords might be thought to 
prove that the prose work is of later date than the poetical, but 
it is by no means conclusive evidence, because, as I have already 
remarked, the diction of poetry is always archaic, and Layamon 
probably confined himself to the conventionally established 
vocabulary of his art. The orthography appears to point to the 
opposite conclusion, though this is a very doubtful question. 
In the Ancren Eiwle, the Anglo-Saxon ce has almost disappeared 
and the combination eo is less frequent, but, on the other hand, 
it retains the iw, as rhule, rule, and, oddly enough, Giws, 
Gkverie, Jew^s, Jewry, while in Layamon this combination is 
often replaced by eiu or eovj. The Ancren Eiwle preserves the 
7nu, but Layamon, except in one or two instances, has always 
wh* The arrangement of words, however, the periodic con- 
struction, ^vhich is less likely to be a dialectic peculiarity than 

'^' Most orthoepists consider hw as a true plionograpliic representation of the 
sound supposed to be indicated by it, "^vliich is that of the modern toJi in whale, 
but Klipstein's Anglo-Saxon Grammar, p. 47, note, says : ' this combination of 
sound is, indeed, one.' I know no criterion by which we can determine whether 
a sound be one, but the experimental test of capacity of prolongation. A sound 
(if the singidar article can be applied to an articulation composed of successive 



172 THE ANCKEN EIWLE Lect, IV. 

a result of the general movement of speech, is almost modern 
in the Ancren Riwle — so much so, sometimes, as to lead one to 
question the authenticity of the manuscripts — but this I think 
is to be ascribed to the colloquial style of the work ; for the 
diction of common speech among educated men at that period 
must have been much influenced by the dialect of the court and 
the Norman nobility. 

The following extract is from Part IV. on Temptations. 
Camden Society edition, pp. 210 — 216 : — 

Summe iugiurs beoS J)et ne kunnen sernen of non o^er gleo, buten 
makien clieres & wrenclien mis hore mitS, & schulen mid hore eien. 
Of J^is mestere serueS J>eo uniselie ontfule iSe deofies kurt, to bringen o 
leihtre hore ontfule louerd. Uor gif ei seiS wel oSer de6 wel, nonesweis 
ne muwen heo loken ])iderward mid rilit eie of gode lieorte : auli 
wincke'S o^ere half, & biholde'5 o luft & asquint : & jif fer is out to 
eadwiten, oSer lodlich, J>iderward heo schuleS mid eii5er eien i & hwon 
heo ihereS jjet god,' heo sleateS adun boa two hore earen ' auh ]?et lust 
ajean ]?et vuel is ever wid open, peonne heo wrenche'S hore mu'S mis, 
hwon heo turnet) god to A'^uel 5 & jif hit is sumdel vuel, ]3Ui"uh more 
lastunge heo wrenche'S hit to Avurse. peos beoS hore owune prophetes 
forcwiddares. peos bodieS biuoren hwu ]?e ateliche deouel schal jet 
agesten ham mid his grimme grennunge, & hu heo schulen ham sulf 
grennen & niuelen, & makien sur semblaunt uor ]?e muchele angoise, 
iSe pine of helle. Auh for J>ui heo beo5 ]>e lesse te menen, |jet heo 
biuorenhond leorneS hore meister to makien grimme chere. 

pe wreSfulle biuoren }>e ueonde skirme^ mid kniues, & he is his 
knif-worpare, & pleie'S mid sweordes, & bereS ham hi J^e scherpe orde 
uppen his tunge. Sweord & knif eiSer beoS scherpe & keoruinde 
wordes ]>et he worpcS frommard him, & skirme^ touward o^re. Auh 

elements), whicli requires either two emissions of breath or two different positions 
of the organs of speech, cannot be prolonged, though the separate elements of it 
often may be. The combination hw, wli, is not only incapable of prolongation, but 
cannot be uttered at all without the aid of a third element, namely, a vowel 
following. 

There are, however, a few sounds which may be indefinitely prolonged, and yet 
seem to be composed of two still more elementary articulations. I refer to those 
into which the y consonant appears to enter as a subordinate component. The 
English ch, sh, are very nearly ^ + y and s + y, and in some orthographies, the 
Swedish, for example, in which J corresponds to our y consonant, they are ex- 
pressed accordingly, as tjader, in English spelling, chader, sjai, shale, &c. &e. 



Lect. IV. THE ANCREN RIWLE 173 

lieo bodied hwu ]?e deoflen scliulen pleien mid ham, mid Lore scherpe 
allies, & skirmen mid ham abuten, & dvsten ase enne j)ilcheclnt, euchon 
touward o'Ser, & mid helle sweordes alsnesien ham jmruhiit, pet beo'6 
kene & keoruinde, & ateliche pinen. 

pe slowe lis & slepeS iSe deofles berme, ase his deore deorling i & te 
deoTiel leie'5 his tntel adun to his earen, & tntelec^ him al ]9et he eiier 
wule. Uor, so hit is sikerliche to hwamso is idel of god i ]?e ueond 
maSeleS jeorne, & te idele imderuoS luueliche his lore, pe pet is idel 
& jemeleas, he is pes deofles bermes slep : auh he schal a domesdei 
grimliche abreiden mid te dredful dreame of pe englene bemen i & me 
lielle wondrede ateliche awakien. ' Sm-gite, mortui, qui jacetis in se- 
piilchris : siirgite, et venite ad jiidicimii Saluatoris.' 

pe giscare is pes feondes askebaSie, & 116 euer iSen asken, & fareS 
abuten asken & bisiliche stureS him norte rukelen mnchele & monie 
ruken togedere, & bloweS perinne, & ablent him sulf ^ pa'SereS & makeS 
perinne figures of angrim, ase peos rikenares do's 'p habbeS muchel uorto 
rikenen. pis is al pes canges blisse, & te ueond bihalt al pis gomen, & 
lauhweS pet he to bersted. Wei understond euerich wis mon pis i pet 
gold & seoluer boSe, & euerich eorSlich eihte, nis buten eorSe & asken, 
pet ablent euerichne mon pet bloaweS in ham i pet is, pet bolmveS him 
ine ham i puruh ham ine heorte prude ' & al pet he rukeleS & gedereS 
togedere, & ethalt of eui pinge pet nis buten asken, more pen hit beo 
neod, al schal ine helle iwurSen to him tadden & neddren, & boSe, ase 
Isaie seiS, schulen beon of wurmes his kurtel & his kuuertur, pet nolde 
her pe neodfule ueden ne schruden. ' Subter te sternetur tinea, et ope- 
rimentum tuum vermis.' 

pe jiure glutun is pes fondes manciple. Uor he stikeS euer iSe 
celere, oSer iSe kuchene. His heorte is iSe disches i his pouht is al iSe 
neppe i his lif iSe tunne i his soule iSe crocke. KumeS forS biuoren 
his Louerde bisraitted & bismeoruwed, a dischs ine his one hond, & a 
scoale in his oSer i maSeled mid wordes, & wigeleS ase uordrunken mon 
pet haueS imimt to uallen i bihalt his greate wombe, & te ueond lauh- 
weS pet he to bersteS. God preateS peos pus puruh Isaie. ' Servi mei 
comedent, et vos esurietis,' &c. i ' Mine men,' he seiS, ' schulen eten, & 
ou schal euer hungren i & je schulen beon ueondes fode, world a buten 
ende.' ' Quantum glorificavit se et in deliciis fiiit, tantum date ei luctum 
et tormentum.' In Apocalipsi : * Contra unum poculum quod miscuit, 
miscete ei duo.' Gif pe gulchecuppe weallinde bres to drincken, & ^eot 
in his wide prote pet he aswelte wiSinnen; A^ean one, gif him two. 
Lo ! swuch is Godes dom agean pe jiure, & agean pe drinckares iSe 
Apocalipse. 



174 THE ANCKEN EIWLE Lect. IV. 

The following words require explanation, or merit notice, cheres, 
faces, wry faces, grimaces. No satisfactory etymology lias been suggested 
for this word, which occurs in the Low Latin of the seventh century. 
See Diez in voc. ; — uniselie, unhappy, from A.-S. sa3lig, happy, ob- 
solete; — ontfule, malignant, from Icel. vondr, Dan. ond, evil, 
wicked. I believe this root occurs in A.-S. only in compounds. It is 
obsolete ; — kurt. This and the numerous allied words are, according 
to Diez, from Lat. chors, (cohors)cortis. See Ducange, s. v., wdiere 
the earliest definition is: atrium rusticum stabulis et aliis 
sedificiis circumdatum; — auh, but, A.-S. a c, obsolete, if not extant 
in certain uses of the interjection ah; — o luf t, A.-S. lyft, air, sky, ex- 
tant in a-loft\ — out, might; — eadwiten, to blame, A.-S., extant in 
to twit; — lodlich, loathsome, A.-S. la'Slic. This root seems to have 
passed from the Gothic into the Romance languages, as in Fr. laid; — 
sleateS is defined by Morton: ' sleefeth, aims at, hangs down his ears, 
like a dog in pursuit of game.' If this is correct, the root would be 
slot] (Icel. si 6 S r , a path), a track ; — lastiinge, slander, Ger. L ii s t e r- 
ung, obsolete; — f or cwiddares, foretellers, from cweSen, to say, 
obsolete; — ateliche, hateful; — agesten, to frighten, either the A.-S. 
egesian, or from the same root as aghast; — niuelen. Morton sug- 
gests to beat with the fists, in analogy with Sc. to nevel, to strike, as 
the meaning. I think, however, the A.-S. neowel, prostrate, furnishes 
a better etymology, and if this is the root, niuelen means to throw 
themselves to the ground; — sur, sour; — men en, to moan, bemoan, 
lament;-^skirme'5, fenceth, from skirmen, Fr. escrimer, allied to 
Ger. schirmen, not found in A.-S., and extant in English only in 
shirmish', — knif-worpare, knife-thrower, knif and w or pen or 
weorpen, A.-S. weorpan, to throw, obsolete; — ord, point, edge, 
obsolete; — pilch-clout: pilch is supposed to be Lat. pelliceus, 
of fur, and to have acquired the meaning of flannel; — alsnesien, 
A.-S. asnajsan, to run against, to strike, obsolete; — bernie, bosom, 
obsolete; — tut el, mouth, lips, tutele^, from tutelen, to speak. 
The etymology of these words is not obvious, imless we refer them to 
A.-S. jjeotan, which is imitative: obsolete; — mac^ele'S, from ma- 
Selen, to talk, obsolete; — ^eorne, willingly, extant only in the verb 
to yearn ; — u n d e r f o 5 , receives, from u n d e r u o n g e n , obsolete ; — 
jemeleas, heedless, from jeme, care, heed, obsolete; — abreiden, 
to awake suddenly, to be startled, obsolete; — bemen, trumpets, obso- 
lete; — ^i scare, covetous man, from A.-S. gytsian, to desire, to 
covet, obsolete ; — a s k e b a^ i e , ash -gatherer, obsolete ; — r u k c 1 e n , 
to heap up, A.-S. hreac, a heap, obsolete; — pa'Sere'S, poketh, the 



H 



Lect. IV. THE ANCREN EIWLE 175 

modern pother, potter ; — atigrim, algorism, algorithm, aritlimetic ; — 
cang, a fool. This word does not appear to be A.-S. Obsolete; — eilite, 
possession, obsolete; — boluweS, disturbs himself, A.-S. bolgan, 
obsolete; — ethalt, from etholden, to retain, obsolete except in 
hold, and its derivatives and compounds; — iwur'Sen, to become, ob- 
solete; — schruden, to clothe, obsolete; — 5 iure, greedy, obsolete; 

— neppe, table-cloth, Fr. nappe, extant in diminutive form, napTdn; 

— SCO ale, bowl, Dan. Skaal, obsolete; — imunt, allied with mind. 
hauetJ imunt, has in mind to, hence, is about to ; — a butan ende, 
a, always, obsolete; — butan, without; — gulchecuppe, gulchen, 
to swallow, cognate with Lat. gula; — weallinde, welling, boiling, 
molten; — S^^^^j po^r, A.-S. geotan, obsolete; — aswelte, perish, 
extant in sivelter. 

In this extract there are about twenty words, excluding repe- 
titions, of Latin and French origin. This is more than three 
per cent, of the whole number, and if we exclude the repeti- 
tions of native words also, that proportion would be greatly 
increased. More than thirty words used in these passages have 
become obsolete, and of these, many, as will be seen by the 
above notes, are important. I add Morton's translation : 

There are some jesters who know of no other means of exciting mirth 
but to make wry faces, and distort their mouth, and scowl with their 
ej'^es. This art the unhappy, envious man practiseth in the devil's 
court, to excite to laughter their envious Lord. For, if any one saith 
or doeth well, they cannot, by any means, look that way with the direct 
eye of a good heart ; but wink in another direction, and look on the 
left hand, and obliquely : and if there is anything to blame or dislike, 
there they scowl with both eyes ; and when they hear of any good, they 
hang down both their ears ; but their desire of evil is ever wide open. 
Then they distort their mouth, when they turn good to evil ; and if 
there is somewhat of evil, they distort it, and make it worse by de- 
traction. These are their own prophets — foretelling their own end. 
They shew beforehand how the hateful fiend shall strike terror into 
them with his hideous grinning ; and how they shall themselves gnash 
their teeth, and beat their breasts, with rueful looks for the great an- 
guish of the pains of hell. But they are the less to be pitied, because 
they have learned beforehand their trade of making grim cheer. 

The wrathful man fenceth before the devil with knives, and he is his 



176 THE ANCREN EIWLE Lect. IV. 

knife-thrower, and playeth with swords, and beareth them upon his 
tongue by the sharp point. Sword and knife both are sharp and cutt- 
ing words which he casteth forth, and therewith attacks others. And 
it forebodes how the devils shall play with them with their sharp awls, 
and skirmish about with them, and toss them like a pilch-clout every 
one towards another, and strike them through with hell- swords, which 
are keen, cutting, and horrible pains. 

The sluggard lieth and sleepeth in the devil's bosom, as his dear 
darling ; and the devil applieth his mouth to his ears, and tells him 
whatever he will. For, this is certainly the case with every one who 
is not occupied in any thing good : the devil assiduously talks, and the 
idle lovingly receive his lessons. He that is idle and careless is the 
devil's bosom-sleeper : but he shall on Doomsday be fearfully startled 
with the dreadful sound of the angels' trumpets, and shall awaken in 
terrible amazement in hell. ' Arise, ye dead, who lie in graves : arise, 
and come to the Savior's judgment.' 

The covetous man is the devil's ash-gatherer, and lieth always in the 
ashes, and busily bestirs himself to heap up much, and to rake many 
together, and bloweth therein, and blindeth himself, poketh, and maketh 
therein figures of arithmetic, as those accountants do who have much 
to reckon up. This is all the joy of this fool, and the devil seeth all 
this game, and laugheth so that he bursteth. Every wise man well 
understandeth this ; that both gold and silver, and all earthly goods, 
are nothing but earth and ashes, which blind every man that bloweth 
upon them ; that is, disquieteth himself for them ; is proud in heart 
through them ; and all that he heapeth up and gathereth together, and 
possesses of any thing more than is necessary, is nothing but ashes, and 
in hell it shall all become toads and adders to him ; and both his kirtel 
and his covering, as Isaiah saith, shall be of worms, who would not 
feed nor clothe the needy, * The worm is spread iinder thee, and the 
worms cover thee.' 

The greedy glutton is the devil's purveyor; for he always haunts the 
cellar or the kitchen. His heart is in the dishes ; all his thought is oi 
the table-cloth ; his life is in the tun, his soul in the pitcher. He 
cometh into the presence of his Lord besmutted and besmeared, with a 
dish in one hand and a bowl in the other. He talks much incoherently, 
and staggereth like a drunken man who seemeth about to fall, looks at 
his great belly, and the devil laughs so that he bursteth. God thus 
threateneth such persons by Isaiah, ' Servi mei comedent, et vos esu- 
rietis,' &c. : ' My servants shall eat, but ye shall always hunger ; ' and 
ye shall be food for devils, world without end I *How much she hath 



Lect. IV. THE ORMULUM 177 

glorified herself, and Batli lived deliciously, so much torment and sor- 
row give her.' ' Contra tmum poculum quod miscuit, miscete ei duo.' 
Give the tosspot molten brass to drink, and pour it into his wide throat, 
that he may die inwardly. Lo ! such is the judgment of God against 
the glutton, and against drunkards, in the Apocalypse. 

The Ormulum, of which I have spoken as one of the most 
important philological monuments of the period under consi- 
deration, has excited, and, in some respects, merits more atten- 
tion than the Ancren Eiwle.* 

The Ormulum consists of a paraphrase of scripture with a 
homiletic commentary, and is constructed much on the plan of 
Otfrid's Krist. The extant fragments, which fortunately contain 
the dedication and commencement, amount to twenty thousand 
verses, but are apparently only an inconsiderable portion of the 
entire poem. The author was Ormin, or Orm, an English 
monk of the order of St. Augustine, and he named the poem 
Oemulum after himself, saying, at the opening :• — 

piss boc iss nemmnedd Orrmulum 
Forrfi fatt Orrm itt wrohhte. 

The bestowal of his own name upon the work may be con- 
sidered an indication of personal vanity on the part of the 
author, and it is evident that he was ambitious to distinguish 
himself as a reformer, both in English philology, or at least 
orthography, and in religion. His system of spelling, — not new 
in principle, and to a certain extent common to all the G-othic 
languages — though cumbersome in practice, is carried out by 
Ormin with a consistency and uniformity that show a very 
careful attention to English phonology, and give' it something 
of the merit of an original method. He evidently attached 
much value to this system, and expected a considerable circu- 
lation of his book, for he earnestly enjoins upon all who copy it, 

* See, on the vocabulary and the prosody of the Ormulum, First Series, 
Lectures V., pp. 110, 111 ; VI., p. 123 ; XIX., p. 424 ; XXIV., pp. 520—522. 

N 



178 THE ORMULUM Lect. IV. 

to follow scrupulously the spelling employed by himself. Either 
for want of poetical merit, or for the great freedom with which 
he censured the corruptions of the Church, or because readers 
were repelled by the uncouth appearance of his orthography, or 
for some other unknown reason, the book failed to secure the 
popularity its author hoped for, and it does not seem to have 
ever been copied at all. The only existing manuscript is pro- 
bably the original of the author himself, and there is no reason 
to believe that his spelling was ever adopted by any other 
writer. The principal peculiarity of Ormin's orthography is 
that the consonant is doubled after short vowels, except in a few 
cases where, probably for want of room in the manuscript for 
two consonants, a semicircular mark is put over a vowel to indi- 
cate its quantity. There are also marks of contraction, and 
some other signs the force of which is not always apparent. 

It is obvious that if the spelling of the Ormulum were 
proved truly to represent the general contemporaneous pronun- 
ciation of English at the time it was written, this orthography 
would be a very important aid in acquiring a knowledge of that 
pronunciation, because the temporal quantity of all the vowels 
is indicated in every combination in which they can possibly 
occur. The author evidently designed to make it a phono- 
graphic expression of the normal English articulation, for he 
expressly declares that English — a term which he would hardly 
have applied to a local dialect — can be properly written in no 
other way. Besides this, it may be observed that, with respect 
to the temporal length of the vowels, the notation of Orm, in 
most cases, corresponds with what is, and is supposed to have 
long been, the habitual pronunciation of English, though in 
many cases, the essential quality of vowels and the accentuation 
of syllables has certainly been changed. 

On the other hand, the number of Scandinavian words and 
idioms in the vocabulary and syntax has led many critics to 
regard the work of Orm as a specimen of a North-eastern patois, 
deriving a special character from the Danish colonists in that 



Lect. IV. THE ORMULUM 179 

quarter of England.* The weight of this evidence has perhaps 
been exaggerated, and I do not attach much importance to the 
coincidences between the Danish orthography and that of the 
Ormulum. English pronunciation agrees with the Danish in 
many points in which both differ from the German, and I am 
much disposed to believe that the spelling of the Ormulum 
constitutes as faithful a representation of the oral English of its 
time as any one work could be, at a period of great confusion of 
speech.! 

The versification differs from the Anglo-Saxon models in 
wanting alliteration, and in possessing a regular metrical flow ; 
from the Norman French in wanting rhyme ; and, allowing for 
the difference between accent and classical quantity, it closely 
resembles that of some Latin poems of the Middle Ages, from 
which it was probably imitated. 

The vocabulary contains a few words borrowed from sacred or 
ecclesiastical Latin, but scarcely any trace of Norman influence. 
The syntax of Orm, as will be seen by an examination of the 
passages I select for illustration, does not differ much from that 
of modern English, and if the work were reduced to the present 
orthography, it would present very few difliculties to a reader at 
all familiar with old English literature. The most remarkable 
general characteristic of the syntax is its regularity, which, in 
spite of the temptations to licence, common to all modes of 
versification, is greater than is to be found in any other English 

* Perhaps the most important Scandinavianism in the Ormulum is the use of 
aren, the origin of the modern are, as the third person plural indicative present 
of the verb been, ben, beo, to he. Aren occurs, for the first time in English so 
far as I have observed, on pp. 157 and 237 of the first volume of the Ormulum, 
though sinndenn, which in Layamon is represented by beo n, beo, beo<5, bi<S, 
&c. is the more common form of this plural. 

t The orthography of the Ormulum, if it does not disprove the doctrine of the 
diphthongal pronunciation of the long vowels, certainly lends no countenance to it. 
Had this been a very marked characteristic of the English articulation of his time, 
it could hardly have escaped so acute an ear as that of Orm ; and, on tlie other 
hand, if the vowels had been divided into distinct shades, as in modern Danish, 
he would have found liimself under the necessity of inventing characters to repre- 
sent these varieties of sotind. 

Ma 



18Q THE OEMULUM Lect. IV. 

composition, except those of modern date. This implies not 
only a closer attention to the subject than had been bestowed 
upon it by other authors, but a general stability of grammatical 
forms, evidence of which is not to be found elsewhere. The 
departures from the author's own system are, with very few 
exceptions, as might be expected, sacrifices to the canons of 
metre. 

Considered as a poem, the Ormulum has no merit but that of 
smooth, fluent, and regular versification, and it exhibits none of 
the characteristic traits of English genius. With the exception, 
therefore, of its remarkable prosody, its claims to the attention 
of the student are of the same character as those of the Ancren 
Eiwle, and it is not a fit subject for literary criticism. 

I have embraced this poem in the same class with Layamon 
and the Ancren Eiwle in deference to the opinion of English 
philologists, who generally incline to treat its dialect as semi- 
Saxon, rather than as distinctively English. It appears to me 
to belong to a later date than either of those writings, or than 
some productions which I shall have occasion to consider here- 
after ; but its total want of all trace of nationality of thought 
and character induces me to accede the more readily to its 
separation from the literature which forms the subject of the 
next lecture, and which, in some cases at least, shows a faint 
glimmering of the spark that was soon to be kindled to a radiant 
flame. 

AfFterr patt tatt te Laferrd Crist 
After that that the Lord Christ 

Wass cumenn off Egyppte 
was come from Egypt 

Inntill ]>e land off Galileo, 
into the land of Galilee, 

Till Nazara3}>ess chesstre, 
to Nazareth's town, 

pseraffterr sej^]? ]?e Goddspellboc 
thereafter saith the Gospelbook 



Lect. IV. THE OEMULUM 181 

Bilaef he ])£er well lannge 
remained he there well long 

Wi]?]? hise frend tatt haffdenn himm 
with his friends that had him 

To gemenn & to gsetenn, 
to keep and to protect, 

Wi]?]? Marge ]?att hiss moderr wass 
with Mary that his mother was 

& magjdenn Jjwerrt ut clene, 
and maiden throughout clean, 

& wij»|) Jos£ep J»att wass himm sett 
and with Joseph that was him set 

To fedenn & to fosstrenn. 
to feed and to foster. 

& illke Lenntenn forenn J>e35 
and every Lent fared they 

Till 5 Grrsalsemess chesstre ^ 

to Jerusalem's city 

Aj5 att te Passkemessedag^, 
aye at the Passoverday, 

Swa summ ]>e boc hemm tahhte, 
so as the book them taught, 

To frellsenn J?ser ))att heghe tid 
to keep there that holyday 

O fatt Judisskenn wise, 
in the Jewish wise, 

Forr }?att tej5 wcerenn gode menn, 
for that they were good men, 

& Godess lajhess heldenn. 
and God's laws held. 

And si]?])enn o J)att ^er ))att Crist 
And afterwards in the year that Christ 

Wass off twellf winnteiT elde 
was of twelve winters age 



182 THE ORMULIJM LecT. IV. 

pe^g comenn inntill 5errsalaem 
they come into Jerusalem 

Att tej^re Passkemesse, 
at their Passover, 

& heldenn J»8er ))att halljhe lid 
and held there that holy time 

O J>att Judisskenn wise, 
in the Jewish wise. 

& Jesu Crist wass ]>£ev wi]?]> hemm, 
and Jesus Christ was . there with them, 

Swa summ ]?e Goddspell ld])e])]7. 
so as the Gospel saith. 

& affterr ])att te tid wass gan 
and after that the time was gone 

P®SS "vvenndenn fra ]?e temmple, 
they wended from the temple, 

& ferrdenn towarrd Nazarsejj 
and fared towards Nazareth 

An dagjess gang till efenn, 
a day's journey till evening, 

& wenndenn ])att te Laferrd Crist 
and Aveened that the Lord Christ 

Wi}>]? hemm J^att gate come ; 
with them that way came ; 

& he wass J^a behinndenn hemm 
and he was then behind them 

Bilefedd att te temmple; 
remaining at the temple; 

& tatt ne wisste nohht hiss kinn 
and that not wist not his kin 

Ace wennde y^tt he come, 
but weened that he came, 

& jedenn heore wejje forr]) 
and went their way forth 



Le€T. IV. THE OEMULUM 183 

Till patt itt comm till efenn, 
till that it came to evening, 

& ta J>e55 misstenn j^e^gre child, 
and then they missed their child, 

& itt hemni ofFerrJnilihte, 
and it them grieved, 

& ^edenn tiU,' & sohhtenn himm 
and (they) Avent, and sought him 

Bitwenenn sibbe & cuJjc, 

among relations and acquaintanc^^ft, 

& te^S ne fundenn nohht offhimns 
and they not found nought of him, 

Forr he wass att te temmple. 
for he was at the temple. 

& tejg ]?a wenndenn efFt onnjan 
and they then turned back again 

patt dere child to sekenn, 
that dear child to seek, 

& comenn eift till gerrsalfem, 
and came again to Jerusalem, 

To sekenn himm fser binnenn. 
to seek him there within. 

& tejj himm o ]>e fridde dajj 
and they him on the third day 

J?ser fimdenn i ]?e temmple 
there found in the temple 

Bitwenenn J^att Judisskenn flocc 
among the Jewish flock 

patt leeredd wass o boke; 
that learned was in book ; 

& taere he satt to frajjnenn hemm 
and there he sat to ask them 

Off Jjejjre bokess lare, 
of their book's lore. 



184 THE ORMULUM Lect. IV. 

& alle ]?att himm herrdenn ]7ger, 
and all that him heard there, 

Hemm Jjulihte mikell wunnderr 
them thought much wonder 

Off fatt he wass full jaep & wis 
of that he was fuU shrewd and wise 

To swarenn & to frajjnenn. 
to answer and to ask. 

& Sannte Marge comm till himm 
and Saint Mary came to him 

& seggde himm fuss wij>]? worde, 
and said (to) him thus with word, 

Whi didesst tu, lef sune, J>uss 
Why didst thou, dear son, thus 

Wi]?]) uss, forr uss to swennkenn ? 
with us, for us to trouble? 

Witt hafenn sohht te widewhar 
we-two have sought thee widewhere 

Ice & ti faderr bape 
I and thy father both 

Wi]?]> serrhfull herrte & sarij mod, 
with sorrowful heart and sorry mood, 

Whi didesst tu J>iss dede ? 
why didst thou this deed ? 

& tanne seg jde Jesu Crist 
and then said Jesus Christ 

Till loape ))US3 wiJ^J?- worde, 
to both thus with word, 

Whatt wass juw swa to Sekenn me, 
what was (there to) you so to seek me, 

Whatt wass juw swa to serrjhenn ? 
what was (there to) you so to sorrow ? 

Ne wisste je nohht tatt me birr]> 
not wist ye not that me becomes 



Lect. IV. ^ THE ORMULUM 185 

Min faderr wille forjjenn? 
my fatlier's will (to) do ? 

Ne J>att me birr]) beon hojhefull 
nor tliat me becomes (to) be careful 

Abutenn hise fingess ? 
about liis things? 

& tejj ne mihlitenn nohht tatt word 
and they not might not that word 

jit ta wel unndeiTstanndenn ; 
yet then wel understand; 

& he ))a gede for]) wi]?]) hemm 
and he then went forth with them 

& dide hemm heore wille, 
and did them there will, 

& comm wi}>]? hemm till Nazarge]?, 
and came with them to Nazareth, 

Swa summ Ipe Goddspell ki])e]7j), 
so as the Gospel saith, 

& till hemm ba]7e he lutte & bseh 
and to them both he obeyed and bowed 

J)urrh so]>fasst hen-summnesse, 
through soothfast obedience, 

& wass wi]?]7 hemm till ])att he wass 
and was with them till that he was 

Off ])ritti5 winnterr elde. 
of thirty winters' age. 

& tu*e laffdij Marge toe 
and our lady Mary tools: 

All ])att jho sahh & herrde 
all that she saw and heard 

Off hire sune Jesu Crist, 
of her son Jesus Christ, 

& off hiss Goddcunndness^ 
and of his Divinity, 



186 THE ORMULUM Lect. IV. 

& all ^liot lield inn hire pohlit, 
^ and all she-it held in her thought, 

Swa snmm ])e Goddspell kij^e]?]?, 
so as the Gospel saith, 

& lej^de itt all tosamenn ajg 
and laid it all together aye 

Inn hire ]?ohhtess arrke. 
in her thought's ark. 

& hire sune wex & praf 
And her son Avaxed and throve 

I wissdom & inn elde, 
in wisdom and in age, 

& he wass Godd & gode menn 
-and he was (to) God and good men 

Well swipe lef & dere ; 
well very pleasing and dear ; 

& tatt wass rihht, forr he wass Godd, 
and that was right, for he was God, 

& god onn alle wise, 
and good in all ways. 

Her ende]?]? nu }>iss Goddspell ]?uss 
Here endeth now this Gospel thus 

& uss birr]? itt ]?urrhsekenn, 
and us (it) becomes it to through-search, 

To lokenn whatt itt Isere])]? uss 
to observe what it teacheth us 

Off ure sawle nede. 
of our soul's need. 

Notes. — I have already stated the general principle of Orm's ortho- 
graphy. There are apparent deviations from his own rules, but these, 
when not mere accidents, are doubtless expUcable as special cases, 
though we cannot always reconcile them to his usual practice. It will 
be seen that in words beginning with ]?, and now pronounced with the 
til sound, t is often substituted, but this is always done in conformity with 



Lect. IV. THE CEMULUM 187 

what was doubtless an ortlioepical rule. After words ending in J, f, 
and sometimes ss, ]> becomes t, as in tlie first line of the above extract. 
There are some exceptions to this rule, but they are not important 
enough to be noticed, frend, the sign of the plural is here omitted; — 
•\vass — bilefedd. This corresponds with the German war geblie- 
ben; — witt, we-two, dual form; — whatt wass juw, what was to 
you, what had you, what ailed you; — me birrj>, the verb is here an 
impersonal, as ought sometimes was at a later period; — fader r Aville, 
the omission of the possessive sign after words indicative of family re- 
lation was very common for at least two centuries after the time of 
Orm ; — ghot, contraction for jho itt. 



LECTUEE V. 

ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITEEATURE OF THE FIRST PERIOD : 
FROM THE MIDDLE OP THE THIRTEENTH TO THE MIDDLE 
OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY. 

As I have remarked in a former lecture, the change from 
Anglo-Saxon and Semi-Saxon to English was so gradual, that 
the history of the revolution can be divided only by arbitrary 
epochs ; and I have given some reasons for thinking that what- 
ever date we may assign to the formation of the English 
speech, English literature cannot be regarded as having had a 
beginning until the English tongue was employed in the 
expression of the conceptions of a distinctively national genius. 
This, as we have seen, cannot be said to have taken place until 
after the middle of the fourteenth century; but the incipient 
chemical union of Saxon and French was attended with an 
effervescence which threw off some spirited products, though it 
must be confessed that most of what is called the EngKsh 
literature of the thirteenth century, when compared with the 
contemporaneous poetry of Continental Europe, and especially 
of France, resembles dregs and lees rather than anything more 
ethereal. 

To the grammarian and the etymologist, the history of the 
transition period, or the larva and chrysalis states, is of in- 
terest and importance as necessary to a clear view of the phy- 
siology of the English speech ; but, both because I aim to exhibit 
the literary adaptations of the language rather than its g'^*^<p«ia 



I 
I 



Lect. V. THIRTEENTH CENTUEY 189 

or its linguistic affinities, and because of the extreme difficulty 
of intelligibly presenting niceties of grammatical form to tbe 
ear alone, I attempt nothing beyond a very general statement 
of the leading facts of this period of English philological 
history. 

We shall have time and space to criticise only the more con- 
spicuous writers and their dialect, and even among these writers 
I must confine inyself to those who were something more than 
merely products of their age and country. I can notice only 
two classes, namely, such as are emphatically important witnesses 
to the state of English philology in their time, and such as con- 
tributed — by the popularity of their writings and their sym- 
pathy with the tendencies of the yet but half-developed nation- 
ality which was struggling into existence — to give form and 
direction to contemporaneous and succeeding literary effort, and 
are consequently to be regarded, not as examples, results, 
simply, but as creative influences in English letters. 

Of the former class, the most celebrated is the short procla- 
mation issued in the year 1258, in the reign of Henry III., 
which many English philologists regard as the first specimen of 
English as contradistinguished from Semi-Saxon.* There is 
no very good grammatical reason for treating this proclamation 
as belonging to an essentially different phase of English philo- 
logy fj-om many earlier writings of the same century; for 
though it is, in particular points, apparently more modern than 



^ I suppose the editors of the great English Dictionary now in course of pre- 
paration under the auspices of the London Philological Society, consider this 
state-paper as not English, but Semi-Saxon ; for it is not among the monuments 
enumerated as examined for Coleridge's Glossarial Index to the English literature 
of the thirteenth century. Short as it is, it contains, besides some variant forms 
not noticed by Coleridge, these words not found in the Glossarial Index : a, al- 
ways, aye ; aforesaid (toforeniseide) ; hesigte, provision, ordinance ; freme, profit, 
good ; fultume, help ; moge, nobles [?] ; ourseJf {usselven) ; redcsman, councillor ; 
setness {isetness), law, decree ; sign (iseined), verb ; worsen (iwersed) ; worthnesse, 
honour. We may hence infer that the still unpublished relics of the literature of 
the thirteenth century will furnish a considerable number of words not yet in- 
corporated into English vocabularies. 



190 PROCLAMATION OP HENEY III. Lect. V. 

some of them — the Ancren Eiwle for instance — it is, in other 
respects, quite as decidedly of an older structure. Its real im- 
portance arises chiefly from the fact, that it is one of the 
very few specimens of the English of that century, the 
date of which is positively known*, that of the older text of 
Layamon being rather doubtful, those of the later text and of 
the Ormulum, as well as of the Ancren Riwle, and of most 
other manuscripts ascribed to the thirteenth century, altogether 
uncertain. 

Another circumstance which adds much to its value is, that 
it was issued on an important political occasion — the establish- 
ment of a governmental council or commission, in derogation of 
the royal authority, and invested with almost absolute powers — 
and that, as appears from the document itself, copies of it were 
sent, for public promulgation, to every shire in England. The 
probability therefore is strong, that this translation — for the 
proclamation appears to have been drawn up in French — was 
not written in the peculiar local dialect of any one district, but in 
the form which most truly corresponded to the general features 
of the popular speech, in order that it might be everywhere 
intelliofible. It must then be considered the best evidence 
existing of the condition of English at any fixed period in the 
thirteenth century. 

It has been objected against this view of the philological 
importance of this document, that, being an official paper, * it is 
made up, in great part, of established phrases of form, many of 
which had probably become obsolete in ordinary speech and 
writing,' f and hence is to be regarded as no true representative 
of the current English of its time, but as an assemblage of 
archaic forms which had lost their vitality, and, of course, as 



* I am perhaps in error in treating the period to which this monument helongs, 
as altogether certain. There is no doubt as to the date of the original composi- 
tion, hut are we sure that this particular English copy is contemporaneous with 
the original ? 

t Craik, Outlines of the History of the English Language. 



Lect. V. PROCLAMATION OF HENRY III. 191 

belonging philologically to an earlier period. This objection is 
founded on what I think an erroneous view of the facts of the 
case. After the Conquest, the Anglo-Saxon was superseded by 
French and Latin as the mediums of official communication, 
and there is reason to believe that, except in grants to indi- 
viduals and other matters of private concern, Semi-Saxon and 
Early English were little, if at all, used by the government, this 
proclamation being, I believe, the only public document known 
to have been promulgated in the native tongue during the whole 
of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It was probably em- 
ployed on this occasion, because the political movement which 
extorted from the crown the establishment of the commission 
was, as far as in that age any political movement could be, of a 
popular character, and it was thought a prudent measure to 
publish this concession to the demands of the people in a dialect 
intelligible to all. 

There were, then, at that time, no 'established phrases of 
form ' in the political dialect of the English language. The 
government could not have used a stereotyped phraseology, for 
the reason that none su^h existed ; and accordingly this procla- 
mation must be viewed as an authentic monument of the popular 
speech of England in the middle of the thirteenth centur}^, so 
far as that speech had yet acquired a consistent and uniform 
character. 

It is very short, containing, besides proper names, only about 
three hundred words in all, and only between one hundred and 
thirty and one hundred and forty different words, even counting 
as such all the different inflections of the same stem. Of course, 
it exemplifies but a small proportion of either the grammatical 
forms or the vocabulary. In this latter respect it shows no 
trace of Norman influence, all the words being English, except 
the proper names, a couple of official titles, duke and mai^shal, 
and one or two words which the Anglo-Saxon had, in earlier 
ages received from the Latin; but in the grammar, the break- 
ing dov/n of the Anglo-Saxon inflectional system is plainly per- 



192 PROCLAMATION OF HENBT III. Lect. V. 

ceptible. I give the text as I find it in Haupt's Zeitschrift, 
xi. 298, 299, after Pauli.* 

Henr', thurg Godes fultume King on Engleneloande, Ihoaverd on Ir- 
loand, duk' on Norm', on Aquitain', and eorl on Aniow, send igretinge 
to all hise halde ilaerde and ilaewede on Huntendon' schir'. 

Thaet witen ge wel alle, thaet we willen and unnen, tliaet tliaet ure 
raedesmen alle other tlie moare dael of heom, thaet beoth ichosen thurg 
US and thurg thaet loandes folk on ure kuneriche, habbeth idon and 
schullen don in the worthnesse of Gode and on ure treowthe for the 
ireme of the loande thurg the besigte of than toforeniseide redesmen, 
beo stedefaest and ilestinde in alle thinge a buten aende, and we hoaten 
alle ure treowe in the treowthe, that heo us ogen, thaet heo stedefaest- 
liche healden and swerien to healden and to werien the isetnesses, thaet 
beon imakede and beon to maiden thurg than toforeniseide raedesmen 
other thurg the moare dael of heom alswo alse hit is biforen iseid, and 
thaet aehc other helpe thaet for to done bi than ilche othe agenes alle 
men, rigt for to done and to foangen, and noan ne nime of loande ne 
of egte, wherethurg this besigte muge beon ilet other iwersed on onie 
wise and gif oni other onie cumen her ongenes, we willen and hoaten, 
thaet alle ure treowe heom healden deadliche ifoan, and for thaet we 
willen, thaet this beo stedefaest and lestinde, we senden gew this ■writ 
open iseined with ure seel to halden amanges gew ine hord. 

Witnesse usselven aet Lunden' thane egtetenthe day on the monthe 
of Octobr' in the two and fowertigthe geare of ure cruninge, 

And this wes idon aetforen ure isworene redesmen : 
[here follow the signatures of several redesmen or councillors] 
and aetforen othre moge. 

And al on tho ilche worden is isend in to aeurihce othre shcire ouer 
al thaere kuneriche on Engleneloande and ek in tel Irelonde. 

In modern English thus : 

Henry, by the grace of God king in (of) England, lord in (of) Ire- 
land, duke in (of) Normandy, in (of) Aquitaine, and earl in (of) Anjou, 
sends greeting to all his lieges, clerk and lay, in Huntingdonshire. 

This know ye well all, that we will and grant that what our council- 

* I regret that I am unable to furnisli a literal copy of this interesting docu- 
ment. Pauli, from whom the text in Haugt is printed, has thought fit to reject 
the J of the original, and I suppose also the ]> and ^, one or both of which it 
probably employed. Whether other changes have been made, I do not know, but 
even these are as unjustifiable as it would be to substitute g for 7, or ch for x 
in printing a unique Greek manuscript. 



Lect. V. PEOCLAMATION OF HENEY III. 193 

lors, all or the major part of tliem, who are chosen by us and by the 
land's people in oiir kingdom, have done and shall do, to the honour of 
God and in allegiance to us, for the good of the land, by the ordinance 
of the aforesaid councillors, be stedfast and permanent in all things, 
time without end, and we command all our lieges by the faith that they 
owe us, that they stedfastly hold, and swear to hold and defend the re- 
gulations that are made and to be made by the aforesaid councillors, or 
by the major part of them, as is before said, and that each help others 
this to do, by the same oath, against all men, right to do and to receive, 
and that none take of land or goods, whereby this ordinance may be 
let or impaired in any wise, and if any [sing.] or any [plural] trans- 
gress here against, we will and command that aR our lieges them hold 
as deadly foes, and because we will that this be stedfast and permanent, 
we send you these letters patent sealed with our seal, to keep among 
you in custody. 

Witness ourself at London the eighteenth day in the month of Octo- 
ber in the two and fortieth year of our coronation. 

And this was done before our sworn councillors : 
[Signatures] 
and before other nobles [?]. 

And all in the same words is sent into every other shire over all the 
kingdom in (of) England and also into Ireland. 

The first thing which strikes us in the aspect of this proclamation is 
a structure of period so nearly corresponding with present usage, that, 
as the above translation shows, it is easy to make a modern English 
version, conforming to the original in verbal arrangement and syntax, 
and yet departing very httle from the idiom of our own time. The 
positional syntax had become established, and the inflectional endings 
had no longer a real value. True, from the force of habit, they con- 
tinued long in use, just as in spelling we retain letters which have 
ceased to be pronounced ; but when it was once distinctly felt that the 
syntactical relations of words had come to depend on precedence and 
sequence, the cases and other now useless grammatical signs were 
neglected, confounded, and finally dropped, as were the original symbols 
of the larger numbers in the Arabic notation, when it was discovered 
that position alone might be made to indicate the value of the factors 
of which the digits were the exponents.* 

The principle, that the grammatical categories of the words in a 

* See an explanation of the origin of the decimal notation in a note tp 
Humboldt's Kosmos. 



194 PROCLAMATION OP HENHY III. Lect. V. 

period are determined by their relative positions, is the true character- 
istic of English as distinguished from Saxon, and if we could fix the 
epoch at which this principle became the controlling law of construction, 
we could assign a date to the origin of the English language as a new 
linguistic individual. 

Eegel considers the orthography of this proclamation so important 
that, in an article in the second number of the eleventh volume of 
Haupt, he devotes no less than eight and twenty closely printed octavo 
pages to an examination of it. Were I convinced of the soundness of 
these speculations, the present would not be a fit place for the exhibition 
of the results arrived at by this writer ; but, however ingenious may 
be his views, it appears to me that, in the excessive irregularity of all 
orthography at that period, we may find sufficient reason for doubting 
whether we are yet in possession of sufficient data to justify any posi- 
tive conclusions on the relations between the spoken and the written 
tongue of England in the middle of the thirteenth century.* 

* "We can never determine, by internal evidence, whether changes in orthography 
are contemporaneous with changes in pronunciation, and it is only in a very few 
recent cases that we have any external evidence on the subject. The presumption 
is always that the spelling remained unaltered long after the spoken word had 
become very different in articulation. 

If we compare the orthography of our time with that of Shakspeare's age, we 
find very considerable changes, and we know that English pronunciation has been 
much modified since that period. (See the evidence on this subject in First Series^ 
Lecture XXII.) But the changes in spelling have not, in general, been made for 
the purpose of bringing the written into closer accordance ^vith the spoken tongue, 
hut for etymological reasons, for convenience of the printer, for uniformity, and 
in some cases from caprice ; nor have we any reason to believe that our present 
orthography is more truly phonographic than it was two hundred years ago, except, 
perhaps, so far as it has been made so by dropping the mute e in many words. 

The Spanish Academy has succeeded in bringing about a revolution in the ortho- 
graphy of the Castnian language, and in this instance, the modern spelling more truly 
represents the articulation than the old orthography did. The change was not made 
because the orthoepy had been recently modified, but to make the orthography 
a more uniform and convenient expression of wliat had been for a long time the 
normal pronunciation. This we know historically, but if the discussions on the 
subject should be lost, posterity might as justly infer, from the internal evidence 
ha the case, that the articulation of the Spanish imderwent a sudden change in the 
first half of the nineteenth century, as we can that the pronunciation of Saxon words 
in English, in the time of Henry III., differed materially from that employed in 
the same words at the epoch of the Conquest. And in the same way, leaving the 
external evidence out of the question, a stranger to Anglo-American usage, ob- 
serving the general employment of Webster's unhappy caeography in New York 
newspapers and school books, could come to no other conclusion than that the 



Lect. V. PEOCLAMATION OF HENRY III. 195 

The following -words seem to reqnire special notice : 

Vekbs. send, 3 per. indie, sing, is without inflectional ending or 
other sign of conjugation; — witen, imperative, ends in n instead of ^, 
which latter was the A.-S. form when the nominative pronoim. followed 
the verb; — will en, with n final instead of J> or ^, but beoth and 
habbeth with the latter sound; — schullen with n, as in A.-S. ; — 
hoaten with n instead of J) or S; — healden and swerien, sub- 
junctive, with n as in A.-S.; — to IreaTEeir'and^irch-werien, infini- 
tives with to^ contrary to A.-S. ; beon with n instead of A.-S. S ; — to 
makien, gerundial according to A.-S. construction, but "v\dthout the 
characteristic -?ze ; — helpe, subjunctive, Avith e as in A.-S.; — to 
done, gerundial with characteristic ending; — to foangen, gerundial 
without characteristic ending; — nime, subj. with e as in A.-S.; — 
muge, subj. with e as in A.-S. ; — cum en, probably subj., with n as in 
A.-S.; — healden, subj. with n as in A.-S.; — senden, with ?^ for S; 
— to halden, gerund, without characteristic. 

Nouns. Igretinge is not a participle, but a noun, greeting, Lat. 
salute m. The /, originally an augment of the participle and past 
tense of the verb, is prefixed also to two other nouns, isetn esses and 
ifoan, and to ilaewede, which is probably to be considered as an ad- 
jective, though not, like ilcerde, a participial; besigte is allied to 
sight, and therefore etymologically corresponds to provision. 

Adjectives, mo are. It is worth noticing, as an instance of the 
approximation of languages Avhich have long diverged, that the A.-S. 
mffira and the Latin major, are, in consequence of orthoepic changes, 
represented in modern English and in Portuguese, respectively, by the 
same word, more, Eng., mor. Port. In the same way — in pursuance 
of more remarkable laws of change by which, in the Cimbric of the 
Sette and the Tredici Comuni, the Ger. lu becomes 5, the diphthong ei 
is soimded o, and the palatal ch is changed into g — the German adjective 
"vveich is, in Cimbric, spelled and pronounced bog, which agrees in 
form, and in at least one meaning, with the Celtic bog. See a note on 
Buck, in the American edition of Wedgwood's Diet, of Eng. Etym. 
Oni other onie, Eegel supposes the e final in the latter example to 
be the sign of the plural ; others have treated it as a feminine singular 
ending. The question cannot be determined by the syntax, for the 
plural might have been used after an alternative, but the distinction of 

people of the American commercial metropolis had lately become so lamentably 
depraved in speech as to talk of trave-lers, of dissolute reve-lers, and of llhe-ling 
smuggled goods. 

O 2 



196 EOMANCE OF ALEXANDER Lect. V. 

grammatical gender was now so little regarded tliat the e is, most pro- 
bably, a plural sign. The orginal French of the proclamation, which, 
unfortunately, my authority does not give, would decide this question. 

Particles. O f had not yet become well recognised as a sign of the 
genitive or possessive, and the document presents several instances of a 
confusion between this particle and on, in. On, in the address, must 
have represented the French d e, while, in the body of the proclamation, 
the same preposition is translated by of\ — a but en aende, Pauli 
had printed abuten aende, treating abuten as a single word. Eegel, 
upon the authority of numerous passages in Semi-Saxon MSS., rightly 
separates them, a is an adverb, the modern aye^ forever. 

One of the most famous among the fictions of the Middle 
Ages, which were made familiar to the English people of the 
thirteenth century by a vernacular translation, was the story of 
Alexander the Great. The remarkable exploits of this famous 
captain filled the world with his renown, in his own short life- 
time ; but the splendour of his victories was for a time eclipsed 
by the perhaps greater achievements, and the certainly more 
permanent conquests, of Eoman generals, and, during a period 
of some centuries, his fame passed quite out of the popular 
memory of Europe. After the downfall of the Eoman Empire, 
his forgotten glory was revived on the Levantine shores of the 
Mediterranean, and then in Western Europe, not in consequence 
of the increasing study of classical authors, but by an echo from 
the literature of far-off countries, where Eome had won but 
transient and doubtful triumphs. The name and exploits of 
Secunder Dhulkarnein *, or the two-horned Alexander, seem 

* May not this Oriental epithet be the origin of the word dulcarnon, which has 
proved too hard a problem for Chaucer's commentators to solve ? Alexander was 
known to the Middle Ages as the great hero of the heathen world, the pajnim 
par excellence, and it is not at all probable that the signification of Dhulkarnein 
was familiar to them. The meaning heathen would precisely suit the word in the 
passage in Stanihurst's Ireland, referred to by Halliwell as suggesting an ex- 
planation of Chaucer's dulcarnon, Stanihurst, in Holinshed, vol. vi. p. 36, 
reprint of 1808, speaking of the conversion of the people of Ulster by St. Patrick, 
says : " S. Patrike, considering that these sealie soules were (as all dulcarnanes 
for the more part are) more to be terrified from infidelitie through the paines of 
hell, than allured to Christiauitie by the ioies of heauen," &c. &c. 



Lect. V. EOMANCE OP ALEXANDER 197 

never to have been obscured in the East, and, in the Middld 
Ages, translations of Oriental romances founded on his life, and 
imitations of them, constituted an important feature in the 
literature of every European people possessing a written 
speech. 

The most celebrated and popular, though not the earliest, of 
these poems, was the Alexandreis of Philip Gautier, of Lille, or 
Chatillon, which was composed, as appears from internal 
evidence, between the years 1170 — 1201. This is modelled 
mainly after Curtius, and is written in Latin hexameters. It 
served as the prototype of numerous versions and paraphrases 
in many languages, and was even translated into Old-Northern 
or Icelandic prose, by command of Magnus Hakonsson, a Nor- 
wegian king, about the middle of the thirteenth century. 

Several of the translations or imitations of Gautier's work 
were written in verses of twelve syllables, or six iambic feet, 
which were probably thought the nearest approximation to the 
classic hexameter practicable in modern poetry * ; and it is said 



Dulcarnon occurs twice in Troilus and Creseide, iiiv. 914, 916. Creseide 
says: 

And, erne, ywis, faine would I don the best, 
If tliat I grace had for to do so, 
But whether that ye dwell, or for him go, 
I am, till God me better minde send. 
At dulcarnon, right at my wittes end. 

Pandarus replies : 

Ye, nece, wol ye here, 
Dulcarnon is called fleming of wretches, 
It semeth herd, for wretches wol nought lere, 
For very slouth, or other wilful tetches, 
This is said by hem that be not worth two fetches, 
But ye ben wise, and that ye han on hond, 
N' is neither harde, ne skilfull to withstond. 

Here the sense of dullness or stupidity, so commonly ascribed to the heathen, is 
plainly implied, though it must be admitted that the precise sense of the phrases 
in which the word occurs is not easily made out. 

* The earliest attempt at imitation of the classical hexameter which I have 
met with in English is a rhymed couplet translated from Virgil in Purvey'a 



198 EOMANCE OF ALEXANDER Lect. V. 

that alexandrine^ as a designatioD of a particular metre, took 
its name from its employment in these popular and widely cir- 
culated poems. Chaucer, though he does not himself write 
in this verse, speaks of it, under the name of exametron, as a 
common heroic measure. 

Tregedis is to sayn a certeyn storie, 
As olde bookes makeii us memorie, 
Of hem that stood in gret prosperite, 
And is yfallen out of heigh degre 
In to miserie, and enditli wrecchedly. 
And thay ben versifyed comunly 
Of six feet, Avhich men clepe exametron. 

Monhes Tale, Prologue. 

The old English poem of Kyng Alisaunder is, however, not 
in the same metre as most of the Eomance poems on the same 
subject, but in a very irregular rhymed verse of seven or eight, 
and sometimes more syllables. It is not a translation of the 
work of Grautier, but of some French poem now unknown, so 
that we have not the means of determining how far it is merely 
a faithful version, or hov/ far it was modified by the translator. 
The story, as narrated in Kyng Alisaunder, does not rest upon 
classical authority, but is, much more probably, made up from 
the spurious Alexander of CalHsthenes and other mediaeval trans- 
lations from Oriental romances, and from confused Eastern 
traditions brought home by pilgrims and crusaders.* That it is 

version of Jerome's prologue to his Latin Bible. "VVycliffite Versions, I. 67, 
where it is printed as prose : 

Now maide turneth aje, Satiirnus turneth his rewmes ; 
Now newe kyn cometh fre, from an hij, fro henenli lewmes. 

* The work which, in the Middle Ages, passed under the name of CalHsthenes, 
is known to have been translated from the Persian into Greek about the year 
1070, by Simon Seth, an officer of the court of Constantinople in the reign of 
Michael Ducas. See AVeber's Metrical Romances, toI. i., Introduction, p. xx. 

The intercourse between Western Europe and the Levant, which became so 
frequent soon after this date, introduced this romance to the Latin nations, and, 
by means of translations, it was soon generally diffused among a public in which 
the wars for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre had excited a new interest in the 
history and the geography of the East. The wide popularity which this feeling 



Lect. V. ROMANCE OF ALEXANDER 199 

substantially a translation, or at least an imitation, and not an 
original English composition, satisfactorily appears from a 
variety of passages, and among others from this ; 

This batail destuted is, 
In the French, wel y-wis, 
Therefore Y have, hit to colour, 
Borowed of the Latyn autonr. 

2199—2202. 

To what Latin author reference is here made, does not appear, 
but it is not probable that it was Grautier, for if the translator had 
been familiar with that author, he would hardly have failed to 
introduce into his work some notice of the death of Thomas a 
Becket, who was so popular a saint in England in the thirteenth 
century, and whose martyrdom, as some of his admirers both 
ancient and modern choose to call it, is mentioned by Grautier. 

The author professes to enumerate his sources at the com- 
mencement of chap. i. of Part II., but it is quite evident that 
he knew little or nothing of the real works of the writers he 
specifies, or of the authorship of the manuscripts he used, and 
the testimony of all ^ Latin books ' was, in his eyes, of equal 
weight. 

The list of authorities, in which the form of the names shows 
it to be a translation from the French, is as follows* : — 

Thoo Ahsaunder went thorough desert, 

Many wondres he seigh apert, 

Wliiche he dude wel descrjnie 

By good clerkes in her lyue ; 

By Aristotle his maister that was ; 

Better clerk sithen non nas. 

Becured to the story serred to stimulate still further the curiosity and the enthu- 
siasm, of Europe, and many a warrior of the cross dreamed of victories as 
brilliant, and conquests as extensive, as those of Alexander. But this and other 
romances did another and better service, by turning the attention of scholars 
to the more authentic sources of historical information respecting the life of 
Alexander, -which were to be found in Curtius and other Latin authors, and thus 
contributed, in some degree, to the revival of a taste for classic literature. 
* Weber, Metrical Komances, I. pp. 199, 200. 



200 ROMANCE OF ALEXANDER Lect. V. 

He Avas with liym, and seigli, and wroot 

Alle thise wondres, (God it woot ! ), 

Salomon, that all the werlde thordngh yede, 

In sooth witnesse helde hym myde. 

Ysidre also, that was so wys. 

In his bokes telleth this. 

Maister Eustroge bereth hym witnesse 

Of the wondres more and lesse. 

Seint Jerome, yee shullen y-Avyte, 

Plem hath also in book y-Avryte ; 

And Magestene, the gode clerk, 

Hath made therof mychel werk. 

Denys, that was of gode memorie, 

It sheweth al in his book of storie ; 

And also Pompie, of Eome lorde, 

Dude it writen every worde. 

Beheldeth me therof no iynder ; 

Her bokes ben my shewer. 

And the lyf of Alysaunder, 

Of whom fleigh so riche sklaunder. 

The ' Lyf of Alysaunder ' here referred to is very probably the 
work falsely ascribed to Callisthenes, who is not mentioned by 
name among the writers from whom the author drew. 

The most interesting and really poetical features of this ro- 
mance are the few couplets of descriptive and sentimental verse, 
introduced at the commencement of the divisions of the story. 
These have, in general, no connection with the narrative, and, 
as far as we can judge by internal evidence, are interpolations 
by the translator, and therefore probably original English com- 
positions. Thus Part I. chap. ii. : 

Averil is meory, and longith the day ; 
Ladies loven solas, and play ; 
Swaynes, justes ; knyghtis, turnay ; 
Syngith the nyghtyngale, gredeth theo jay ; 
The hote sunne chongeth ^ the clay. 
As ye well y-seen may. 

* chongeth is probably an error of the pen or press for clongcth or clmgeihf 
makes to crack by drying and shrinkage. It is not in Coleridge. 



Lect. V. EOMANCE OF ALEXANDER 201 

Chapter IV. 

When corn ripeth in every steode, 
Mury hit is in feld and hyde ; ^ 
Synne hit is and schame to chide ; 
Knyghtis wollith on huntyng ride ; 
The deor galopith by wodis side. 
He that can his time abyde, 
Al his wille him shal bytyde. 



Cliapter Y. 



Chapter VI. 



Chapter VII. 



Chapter X. 



Mury time is the weod to sere ; * 
The corn riputh in the ere : 
The lady is rody in the chere ; 
And maide bryght in the lere ; ^ 
The knighttes hunteth after dere, 
On fote and on destrere. 

Clere and faire the somerys day spryng, 

And makith mony departyng 

Bytweone knyght and his swetyng. 

Theo sunne ariseth, and faUith the dewyng ; 

Theo nesche clay hit maldth clyng. 

Mony is jolif in the mornyng, 

And tholeth deth or the evenyng ! 

N' is in this world so siker thjoig 

So is deth, to olde and yyng ! 

The tyme is nygh of heore wendyng. 

Ofte springeth the bryghte morwe 
Mony to bhsse, and mony to sorwe ; 
Qued hit is muche to borwe : 
And worse hit is ever in sorwe. 
Tho that can nought beon in pes, 
Ofte they maken heom evel at ese. 

In tyme of May hot is in boure ; 
Divers, in medewe, spryngith lloure ; 



* hi/de is a measure of land, a field. Perhaps here it is heath, 

* the weod to sere ; to dry and burn the weeds or stubble, 

* lere, countenance, A.-S. hie or. 



202 EOMANCE OF ALEXANDER Lect. V. 

The ladies, knyghtis lionoTirith ; 

Treowe love in lieorte durith, 

Ac nede coward byliynde kouritli ; 

Theo large geveth ; the ny thyng lourith ; 

Gentil man his leman honourith, 

In burgh, in cite, in castel, in toure. 

Chapter XII. 

Mury hit is in sonne-risyng ? 

The rose openith and unspryng ; 

Weyes fairith, the clayes clyng ; 

The maideues flonrith, the foulis syng ; 

Damosele makith mornyng, 

Whan hire leof makith pertyng. 

These passages, it will be observed, as well as the others of 
similar character which occur in the poem, nearly all refer to a 
time or season of the day or year, but they are introduced 
without any regard to the period of the occurrences the narra- 
tive of which they introduce. They have much the air of having 
been composed as poetical embellishments of a calendar or 
almanack, and I suspect them to have been taken from some 
such work — perhaps a previous production of the translator 
himself — instead of having been written expressly for intro- 
duction into his version of the Eomance of Alexander. 

The geography and the history, natural and military, of this 
poem, are of about equal value, as will appear from the following 
extracts : 

There is another ydle hatt Gangerides 

There ben jnne castels and of poeple pres; 

Hy beeth also mychel and bolde, 

As childe of seven yeres elde, 

Hy ne ben no more verreyment : 

Ac hy ben of body faire and gent ; 

Hy ben natheles faire and wighth, 

And gode and engyneful to fighth, 

And have horses auenaunt, 

To hem stalworthe and asperaunt. 



Lect. V. ROMANCE OF ALEXANDER 203 

Clerkes hy ben with the best 

Of alle men hy ben queyntest ; 

And evermore hy beth werrende ; 

And upon other conqnerrende ; 

By the mone and by the sterren, 

Hy connen jugge all werren. 

Hy ben the altherbest 

That ben from est into west ; 

For hy connen shete the gripes fleigheyng 

And the dragons that ben brennyng. 

Verses 4862—4881. 

Michel is the wonder that is vnder Crist Jesus. 

There byonden is an hyll is cleped Malleus. 

Listneth now to me I praie for my loue ! 

This hyll is so heie that nothing cometh aboue ; 

The folk on the north-half in thester stede hy beth, 

For in al the yer no sunne hy ne seeth. 

Hy on the south-half ne seen sonne non 

Bot in on moneth, atte fest of Seint John ; 

Thoo that woneth in the est partie, 

The Sonne and the hote skye 

Al the day hem shyneth on 

That hy ben black so pycches som. 

Verses 4902—4913. 

Ac thoo hem aroos a vyle meschaunce 
Kyng AJisaimder to gret greuaunce. 
Ypotamos comen flyngynge, 
Out of roches, loude nayinge, 
Grete bestes and grisehch, 
More than olifaunz sikerHche. 
Into the water hy shoten onon 
And freten ^ the knighttes every chon. 

Verses 5164—5170. 

The gode clerk, men cleped Sohm, 
Hath y-writen in his latin, 
That ypotame a wonder beest is 
More than an olifaunt, I wis ; 

* freten, devour. 



204 ROMANCE OF ALEXANDER Lect. V. 

Toppe, and rugge,i and croupe, and cors, 

Is semblabel to an hors. 

A short beek, and a croked tayl 

He hath, and bores tussh, sannz fayle ; 

Blak is his heued as pycche. 

It is a beeste ferliche ; 

It wil al fruyt ete, 

Applen, noten, reisyns, and whete. 

Ac mannes flesshe, and mannes bon 

It loueth best of everychon. 

Verses 5182—5195. 

Theo delfyns woneth hire byside ; 

A strong best of gret pryde. 

They haveth schuldren on the rygge, 

Eche as scharpe as sweordis egge. 

Whan the dehyn the cokadrill seoth, 

Anon togedre wroth the buth, 

And smyteth togedre anon ryght, 

And makith thenne a "steorne fyght, 

Ac the delfyn is more queynter, 

And halt him in the water douner ; 

And whan theo kocadrill him over swymmeth, 

He rerith up his brustehs grymme, 

And his wombe al to-rent ; 

Thus is the cokadrill y-schent, 

And y-slawe of theo delfyn. 

God geve ows god fyn ! 

Verses 6610—6625. 

The syntactical construction and inflections of this poem would in- 
dicate a higher antiquity than its vocabulary, the latter of which 
abounds in French words, while the syntax seems to belong to a period 
when English had as yet borrowed httle from the Norman tongue. 
Thus I find that in the eighth chapter of the first part more than six per 
cent, of the words, exclusive of proper names, are French. Several 
Scandinavian words also make their first appearance in Enghsh in this 
romance, though the syntax shows no trace of Old-Northern influence. 
Thus haume is the Icelandic hamr, a disguise, generally the form of an 
animal, assumed by magic power ; — onde, breath, is Icel. andi; --'Or' 

^ rugge^ back. 



1 



Lect. V. THE OWL AND THE NIGHTINGALE 205 

ped, valiant, is thouglit to be the Icel. participle orpinn, irom A^erpa, 
to throw, but as orpinn is not used in this sense in Icelandic, the 
etymology is at least doubtful ; — pimge, purse, is the Icel. pungr. 

An important work, sometimes ascribed to a more ancient 
date, but I believe pretty certainly belonging to this century, is 
The Owl and Nightingale, a rhyming poem of about eighteen 
hundred verses, in octosyllabic iambic metre. This has not been 
traced to any foreign source, and is probably of native inven- 
tion, — a cii'cumstance which invests it with some interest, as 
the earliest known narrative poem, of a wholly imaginative 
character, conceived in the native tongue after the Saxon 
period. 

It is a dispute between an owl and a nightingale concerning 
their respective powers of song. The smoothness of the versifi- 
cation shows a practised ear, and of course a familiarity with 
foreign models, for English verse had hardly been yet cultivated 
extensively enough to furnish the requisite training. The 
vocabulary contains few Norman words, but many of Scandi- 
navian origin, while its dialectic peculiarities, such as the sub- 
stitution of V for the initial /, do not indicate that the poem 
was' composed in a northern or north-eastern district. The 
dialogue, though neither elegant nor refined, is not wanting in 
spirit, and the general tone of the composition is in advance of 
that of the period to which other evidence, internal and external, 
assigns it. 

The commencement is as follows : — 

Ich was in one sumere dale, 

In one sathe dijele hale,* 

I-herde ich holde grete tale 

An hule and one ni2,tingale. 

That plait was stif and stare and strong, 

Sum wile softe, and lud among ; 

' SutJie dqele hale, very retired or secret hollom 



206 THE OWL AND THE NIGHTINaALE Lect. V. 

An aither a^en other sval,^ 
And let that wole ^ mod ut al. 
And either seide of otheres custe' 
That ake-worste that hi wuste ; 
And hure and hure of othere sunge 
He holde plaiding suthe stronge. 

The nijtingale bi-gon the speche, 
In one hurne"* of one breche^; 
And sat upone vaire bo^e, 
Thar were abute blosme i-noje, 
In ore^ waste thicke hegge, 
I-meind'' mid spire and grene segge, 
Ho was the gladur vor the rise,^ 
And song a vele cunne wise : ® 

Het thujte the dreim ^° that he were 
Of harpe and pipe, than he nere, 
Bet thnjte that he were i-shote 
Of harpe and pipe than of throte. 

Tho stod on old stoc thar bi-side, 
Thar tho nle song hire tide, 
And was mid ivi al bi-growe. 
Hit was thare hule earding-stowe." 

The nijtingale hi i-se^, 
And hi bi-hold and over-se^, 
An thugte wel wl^^ of thare hule. 
For me ^^ hihalt lodlich ^'^ and fule : 
" Unwi^t," ho sede, " awey thu flo ! 
Me is the wrs ^^ that ich the so ; 
I- wis for thine wle lete^^ 
Wel oft ich mine song for-lete ; 
Min horte at-fiith, and fait mi tonge, 
Thonne thu art to me i-thrunge.^^ 

* sval, swelled with indignation. ^ wole, evil. '^ custe, Icel. kostr, habits, 
character, conditions. * hnrne, corner. ^ hrecTie, Coleridge suggests beech, 
here beech-grove. ^ ore, one, a. '' i-meind, mingled. ' rise, branches. 
" song a vele cunne wise, probably, sung many kinds of notes ; wise, Ger, "VV e i s e. ^°Het 
ihuite the dreim, it seemed the tone; Bet thu^te, it seemed rather. " carding- 
stowe, dweUing-place. '- wl, ill. ^* me, men, Fr. on. " lodlich, loathsome. 
" wrs, worse. '* Icte, voice. " i-thrimge, pressed near. 



Lect. V. THE OWL AND THE NIGHTINGALE 207 

Me lust bet^ speten, thane singe 
Of thine fule ^ojelinge.''^ 

Thos hule abod fort hit was eve, 
Ho ne mijte no leng bileve, 
Vor hire horte was so gret, 
That wel ne^ hire fnast ^ at-schet ; 
And warp a word thar after longe : 
" Hu thincthe nu bi mine songe ? 
West thu that ich ne cunne singe, 
Thej ich ne cunne of writehnge ? 
I-lome^ thu dest me grame,^ 
And seist me bothe tone^ and schame; 
^if ich the holde on mine note,^ 
So hit bi-tide that ich mote ! 
And thu were ut of thine rise, 
Thu sholdest singe an other wse.'® 

After much reciprocal abuse, the nightingale bursts into 
song. 

Thos word ajaf the nijtingale. 
And after thare longe tale 
He song so lude and so scharpe, 
Eijt so me grulde schille harpe,* 
Thos hule luste thider-ward. 
And hold here ege nother-ward. 
And sat to-svoUe and i-bolye,^^ 
Also ho hadde one frogge i-svolje. 

The birds then agree, upon the proposal of the nightingale 
to refer the question of superiority to ^Maister Mchole of 
Guldeforde,' who 

is wis and war of worde ; 
He is of dome suthe gleu,^^ 
And him is loth evrich untheu ; 



* me hist het, I -would rather. ^ lo^elinge, chattering. ' fnast, breath. 

* i-lome, often. ^ grame, offence. ^ tone, pain, wrong, injury. ' note^ 
power, possession. * wse, wise, manner. ° ri^t so me grulde schille Jiarpe^ 
as if one were touching a shrill harp. *" i-holye, swollen. " gleu, skilfuU. 



208 THE OWL AND THE NiaHTINaALE Lect. V. 

He wot insist in eche songe, 
Wo singet wel, wo singet wronge ; 
And he can schede ^ vrom tlie rigte 
That woje,^ that thuster^ from the li^te. 

Before repairing to the arbiter, however, they recommence 
their dialogue, and the poem is almost entirely taken up with 
their abuse of each other, the nightingale beginning the dis- 
pute. 

' Hule,' ho sede, ' seie me soth, 
Wi dostu that un-wi^tis doth ? 
Thu singist a nijt, and nojt a dai, 
And al thi song is wailawai ; 
Thu mijt mid thine songe afere 
Alle that i-hereth thine i-bere ; '* 
Thii schirchest and gollest to thine fere' 
That hit is gxisHch to i-here, 
. Hit thinchest bothe wise and snepe^ 
Nojt that thu singe, ac that thu wepe. 
Thu fligst a ni^t and nojt a dai ; 
Tharof ich wndri, and wel mai : 
Vor evrich thing that schuniet ri2,t, 
Hit luveth thuster and hatiet Hgt.' 

The owl replies much in the same strain, and, as will be 
seen by the following extracts, the two birds continue to abuse 
each other, in good set terms, to the end of the poem. The 
owl: — 

Thu wenist that ech song bo ^ grislich 

That thine pipinge nis i-Hch : 

Mi steihe^ is bold and nojt un-orne,® ^ 

Ho is i-Hch one grete home, 

And thin is i-lich one pipe 

Of one smale wode un-ripe. 

Ich singe bet than thu dest ; 

Thu chaterest so doth on Irish preost ; 

* schede, distinguish. * ^<>3^> 'wrong. ' thuster, darkness. * i-iere, 

Toice. * fere, mate. * sne^e, foolish. ' bo, be. " stefne, Tcice. 

• un-orne, rude. 



Lect. V. THE OWL AND THE NIGHTINaALB 209 

Icli singe an eve a rigt time, 
And sotlithe won hit is bed-time, 
The thridde sithe ad middel nijte, 
And so ich mine song adijte 
Wo'ne ich i-so^ arise vorre 
Other dai-rim^ other dai-sterre, 
Ich do god mid mine throte, 
And warne men to hore note.^ 
Ac thu singest alle-longe ni^t, 
From eve fort hit is dai-hjt. 
And evre seist thin o song 
So longe so the nijt is long, 
And evre croweth thi -vvrecche crei 
That he ne swiketh night ne dai ; 
Mid thine pipinge thn adunest^ 
Thas monnes earen thar thu wimest, 
And makest thine song so un-Avrth 
That me ne telth of thar nojt wrth. 
Everich mui^jthe mai so longe i-kste. 
That ho shal like wel im-wreste ; ^ 
Vor harpe and pipe and fugeles songe 
Misliketh, gif hit is to long, 
Ne bo the song never so mnrie. 
That he shal thinche wel un-murie, 
Zef he i-lesteth over un-wille.^ 



The nightingale 



* Hule,' ho seide, ' -wi dostu so ? 
Thn singest a winter wolawo ; 
Thu singest so doth hen a snowe,'^ 
Al that ho singeth hit is for wowe ; 
Hit is for thine fule nithe,^ 
That thu ne mijt mid us bo bhthe, 
For thu forbernest^ wel ne^ for onde ^^ 
Than ure bhsse cumeth to-londe. 



* i-so, see. ^ dai-rim, day -break, dawn. ' note, good, benefit, labonr. 
• adunest, stunnest, dinnest. ^ un-wreste, worthless. ^ over un-wiUe, beyond 
"what is desirable. ' so doth hen a snowe, like a hen in the snow. ^ nithe^ 
envy. ^ forberncstyhvccnest. ^° o«c?e, mahce. 

P 



210 THE OWL AND THE NiaHTINaALE Lect, V. 

Tliu farest so dotli the ille, 

Evricli blisse him is "an-wille ; 

Grucching and luring him both ^ rade,* 

Iiif he i-soth that men both glade ; 

He wolde that he i-seje 

Teres in evrich monnes e%e : 

Ne rojte he thej flockes were 

I-meind bi toppes and bi here.^ 

Al so th'u dost on thire side ; 

Vor wanne snou lith thicke and wide 

An all wi^tes habbeth sorje, 

Thu singest from eve fort a mor^e. 

Ac ich alle blisse mid me bringe ; 

Ech wi^t is glad for mine thinge, 

And blisseth hit wanne ich cume, 

And hijteth ajen mine cume. 

The blostme ginneth springe and sprede 

Both in tro and eke on mede ; 

The lilie mid hire faire whte^ 

Wolcumeth me, that thu hit wte, 

Bid me mid hire faire bio ^ 

That ich shulle to hire flo ; ^ 

The rose also mid hire rude, 

That cumeth ut of the thorne wode, 

Bit me that ich shulle singe 

Vor hire luve one skentinge.' 

The owl : — 

Wi nultu singe an oder theode,* 
War hit is muchele more neode ? 
Thu neaver ne singst in Irlonde, 
Ne thu ne cumest nogt in Scotlonde : 
"Wi nultu fare to Noreweie ? 
And singin men of Galeweie ? 
Thar beodh men that lutel kunne 
Of songe that is bineodhe the sunne ; 

» both, heeth, is. "^ rade, ready, present. ' flocJces * * i-meind hi toppea 
and by here, companies ^ * quarrelling and pulling hair. * wlite, colour. 

* bio, bleo, blee, colour. « Jlo, flee. ' skentinge, a merry song. • theode, 
place, people. 



Lect. V. THE GESTE OP KTNa HORN 211 

Wi nultu tliare preoste singe, 
An teche of tliire writelinge ? 
And wisi ^ horn mid tliire stevene, 
The engeles singeth ine heovene ? 
Thu farest so dodh an ydel wel, 
That springeth bi bume thar is snel,* 
An let for-driie^ the dune,^ 
And floh on idel thar a-dune. 

The disputants become irritated, and are about to proceed to 
violence, when the wren, who 

for heo cuthe singe, 
War com in thare morejeiing. 
To helpe thare nijtegale, 

interferes, reminds the parties of their agreement to refer their 
differences to an arbiter, and sends them to abide his judgment. 
The poem concludes : — 

Mid thisse worde forth hi ferden, 
Al bute here and bute verde,^ 
To Portersham that heo bi-come ; 
Ah hu heo spedde of heore dome 
Ne chan ich eu namore telle ; 
Her nis namore of this spelle. 

The Geste of Kyng Horn, a romantic poem of about sixteen 
hundred verses, belongs to the thirteenth century, and has not 
been traced to a foreign original ; but the existence of nearly 
contemporaneous versions of the same story, in French and 
other languages, renders it highly probable that the first con- 
ception of the poem was of a much earlier date. 

The following is a condensed outline of the plan. King 
Murra37-, the father of Horn, the hero of the tale, is defeated 
and slain by heathen, or, as the poet calls them, Saracen, 

* wisi, sho-w, teach. ^ snel, swift. ' for-drue, dry-up. * dune^ the 
heath. * Al bute here and bute verde, without army and troops, that is without 
followers or retinue. 

P 2 



212 THE GESTE OF KYNG HOKN Lect. V. 

vikingSj from Denmark, who seize Horn, and put to death all 
his countrymen, except such as consent to renounce Christianity, 
Horn is compelled to put to sea in a small boat, with several 
companions, and lands in Westernesse, where he is hospitably 
received by King Aylmer, is carefully educated in all the 
accomplishments of a page, and excites a strong passion in the 
breast of Eimenhild, the only daughter of the King. 

After being dubbed knight, he departs in quest of adventures, 
and, aided by a magic ring given him by the princess, he defeats 
a party of Saracen vikings, and carries the head of the chief to 
King Aylmer, but is exiled by that prince, who is not disposed 
to favour his love for Eimenhild. On taking leave of his mis- 
tress, he begs her to wait seven years for his return, and gives 
her liberty to accept the hand of another suitor unless she has 
a satisfactory account of him within that period. During his 
absence, he meets with a variety of adventures, but is finally 
sent for by Eimenhild, and arrives in time to rescue her 
from King Modi, who is pressing for her hand, and Horn and 
Eimenhild are married. After the marriage, he goes with a 
troop of Irish soldiery to Suddene, his native land, which he 
recovers from the infidels. He finds his mother, who had con- 
cealed herself in a cave at the time of his capture, still alive, 
and returns to Westernesse. During his absence, his false 
friend Fykenild, who had occasioned his former banishment, 
had got possession of Eimenhild, and was trying to compel her 
to consent to a marriage with him. Horn enters Fykenild's 
castle in the disguise of a harper, kills the traitor, and recovers 
his wife. The poem commences thus : — 

Alle beon he bli]?e, 
pat to my song lyj»e : 
A sang ihc schal 50U singe 
Of Murry ]7e kinge. 
King he was bi weste 
So longe so hit laste. 
Godliild het his quen ; 
Faire ne migte non ben. 



Lect. V. THE aESTE OF KYIHG HORN 213 

He hadde a sone, J'at list Horn ; 
Fairer ne ini^te non beo born, 
Ne no rein upon birine, 
Ne sunne upon bischine ; 
Fairer nis non ]?ane lie was, 
He was so brijt so ]?e glas ; 
He was wliit so ])e flur, 
Eose red was Ms colur. 
He was feyr and eke bold, 
Ant of fiftene wjaiter old, 
In none kinge ricHe 
Nas non his iliclie. 
Twelf feren he hadde 
pat alle with hem ladde ; 
Alle riche mannes sones, 
And alle hi were faire gomes; 
Wip him for to pleie : 
And mest he luvede tweie, 
pat on him het Ha]?ulf child. 
And pat oJ»er Fykenild. 
Afulf was ])e beste, 
And Fikenylde fe werste. 

When Horn lands from the boat into which he had been driven 
to embark by the heathen pirates, he takes leave of it with this 
benediction : — 

Schup, bi ]>e se ilode 

Daies have ])vl gode ; 

Bi fe se brinke 

No water ]?e nadrinke. 

5ef ]?u cume to Suddene, 

Gret ]?u wel of myne kenne ; 

Gret ]>u wel my moder, 

Godhild quen ]?e gode ; 

And seie ]?e paene kyng, 

Jesu Cristes wipering, 

pat ihc am hoi and fer. 

On this lond arived her ; 

And seie jjat hei schal fonde 

pe dent of myne honde. « 



214 THE GESTE OF KYNG HOKN LEcr. V. 

King Aylmer meets Horn and his companions soon after they 
land, and, after hearing their story, conducts them to the 
palace, and gives them into the charge of his steward Afelbrus, 
with these instructions : — 

Stiward, tak nu here 

Mi fundlyng, for to lere 

Of jnne mestere, 

Of wude and of rivere ; 

And tech him to harpe 

WiJ? his nayles scharpe ; 

Bivore me to kerve, 

And of ]>e cupe serve ; 

pu tech him of alle J)e liste 

pot ]m evre of wiste; 

In his feiren ]70u wise 

Into oJ>ere servise. 

Horn ]?u imdervonge, 

And tech him of harpe and songe. 

At his parting from Eimenhild, she gives him a ring, with these 

words : — 

* Kni^t,' qna]? heo, * trewe, 

Ihc mene ihc mei ]?e leue.^ 

Tak nil her his gold ring, 

God him is ]?e dubbing.^ 

per is upon ])e ringe 

I-grave Eymenhild ]?e gonge ; 

per nis non betere an onder sunne, 

pat eni mon of telle cunne. 

For mi luve ]m hit were, 

And on J)i finger pu him here. 

pe stones beof> of such grace, 

pet pu ne schalt in none place 

Of none duntes^ beon of drad, 

Ne on bataille beon amad,^ 

Ef Jju loke ])er an, 

And ]?enke upon ]n lemman. 

* hue, leve, l>elieve. - dubbing, finisliing, or setting, or perhaps it refers to 
the device engraved upon the stone, or tlie magic powers conferred upon it. 
• duntcs, dints, blows. * amad, dismayed. 



Lect. V. THE GESTE OF KYNG HORN 215 

The Geste of Kyng Horn has very little merit as a poem, and it is 
far from possessing the philological importance which has sometimes 
been ascribed to it. There are, however, besides the words explained 
in the preceding notes, a few vocables and combinations which deserve 
notice, because, if I am not mistaken, they are not found in any earlier 
English work. Thus, alone occurs in its primitive form in verse 626 : — 

po gunne ))e hundes gone 
Abute Horn al one} 

But in verses 861 and 1055 it is written, as at present, alone; and 
in verse 539 we find the more ancient simple one^ used without the 
all:-^ 

Nolde he nojt go one, 

Apulf was his mone. 

At one, the probable origin of the modern verb to atone, which is 
supposed to be not older than the sixteenth century, appears in the 
verse 953 : — 

At on he was wif> ))e king 
Of )>at ilke wedding. 

There is, in couplet 545, 546, a singular compound rhyme, which I 
have not observed in any other poem of the thirteenth century, and 
which, though a departure from the laws of harmonious consonance, 
seems to have been a favourite with old English poets, for it is several 
times employed by Chaucer, Gower, and Occleve : — 
Knijt, nu is J>i time 
For to sitte hi me. 

The French words, counting repetitions, constitute about two per 
cent, of the vocabuLary, and they are principally from the secular litera- 
ture of the Continent. The Scandinavian words are few. The meaning 
and Northern origin of one of them, y^r, v. 155, appear to have escaped 
the glossarists. It is evidently the Da;nish for, Icel. fosrr, which the 
Scandinavian etymologists refer to the verb at far a, the primitive mean- 
ing being able to walk, active. The more modern sense is strong, well, 
and in the passage cited, hoi and fer evidently signifies safe and sound. 
Boy, a word for which no satisfactory etymology haa been suggested, 
occurs in verse 1107, but as it is applied to the porter of a castle, it is 
used rather in the Irish, than in the modem English sense.* 

* See ou the word alone, First Series, Appendix, p. 696, also Lecture XI., post. 

* I regret to say that, with every possible effort, I have been unable to procure 
a copy of Havelok the Dane, and I prefer rather to oinit all notice of it than to 



216 THE SURTEES psalter Lect, V. 

Another interesting production of the period under consider- 
ation is the metrical version of the psalms, published by the 
Surtees Society. The date of this translation is unknown, but 
it can hardly be later than the iirst half of the thirteenth century, 
though I believe no manuscript copy older than the middle of 
the reign of Edward II. is known to exist. Its diction resembles 
in many respects the dialect of the Owl and the Nightingale, 
but an important grammatical distinction is that it generally 
uses the Danish plural ere instead of hen^ beth or beoth, and 
another is that for the Anglo-Saxon ending of the verb in -th, in 
the indicative present, third person singular, and all persons of 
the plural, as also in the imperative, it substitutes s. Chaucer 
employs this form in the Reeves Tale, as a peculiarity of the 
speech of two persons from the North of England : — 

Of o toun were they born that highte Strothir, 
Fer in the North, 

and it has sometimes been said to characterise the dialects of 
districts where the Scandinavian element is most perceptible. 
But it is highly improbable that this change is due to Danish 
influence ; for the Danes did not make the corresponding inflec- 
tions of their own verb in s, and, though what is absurdly called 
the hard sound of th (as in think) is extinct in the normal pro- 
nunciation of Danish, yet there is no reason to believe that it 
became so until long after the last Danish invasion of England. 
The origin of the new form is obscure, and at present not 
historically demonstrable, but it is perhaps to be found in the 
difficulty of the pronunciation of the th. The substantive verb 
to be, which occurs more frequently than any other verb, had 
always the third person singular, indicative present and past, in 
s, for is and wees were used in Anglo-Saxon just as they are 
now. The Normans could not pronounce th, and in attempting 

■borrow an account of it at second hand. The extracts I have seen do not lead 
me to concur in the opinions which have been sometimes expressed concerning 
the high philological importance of this work. 



Lr.CT. V. THE SURTEES PSALTER 217 

it, a Frenchman gives it the s or rather z sound which s most 
usually has as a verbal ending. It seems to me, therefore, not 
improbable, that this Norman-French error in articulation, 
combined with the fact that the most important of all verbs, the 
verb to he, already employed s as the ending of the third per- 
son singular, occasioned its general adoption as the characteristic 
of that inflection.* 

I select as a specimen of this translation. Psalm CII. (CIII. 
of the standard English version), and, for the purpose of com- 
parisons which I leave the student to make for himself, I 
accompany this text, numbered 3, with 1, the Anglo-Saxon 
metrical version ; 2, the older Wycliffite, or Hereford's, prose 
translation ; 4, the Latin, from the Surtees Psalter ; and 5, a 
French prose translation, of the twelfth century, published by 
F. Michel in 1860. 

I. 

1. Bletsa, mine sawle, bliSe drihten; 

2. Blesse thou, my spule, to the Lord ; 

3. Blisse, my saule, to Laverd ai isse ; 

4. Benedic, anima mea, Dominum ; 

5. Beneis, la meie aneme, a nostre Segnor ; 

1. and eall min inneran his J^asne ecean nam an ! 

2. and all thingus that withinne me ben, to his holi name ! 

3. And alle J>at with in me ere, to hali name hisse ! 

4. et omnia interiora mea nomen sanctum ejus ! 

5. e tres-tutes les coses qui dedenz mei simt, al saint niun de luil 

n. 

1. Bletsige, mine sawle, bealde dryhten 1 

2. Blesse thou, my soule, to the Lord ! 

3. BHsse, mi saul, to Laverd, of alle thinges 1 

4. Benedic, anima mea, Dominum ! 

5. Beneis, la meie aneme, a nostre Segnor 1 

1. ne wylt ))u ofergeottul sefre weorSan, 

2. and wile thou not forjete alle the jeldingus of him. 

3. And nil for-gete alle his for-yheldinges. 

4. et noli oblivisci omnes retributiones ejus. 

5. e ne voilles oblier tutes les gueredunances de lui. 

• Sae note at the end of this Lecture. 



218 THE SUETEES PSALTER Lect. V. 



in. 

1. He J^inum manda3dum miltsade eallum ; 

2. That hatli mercy to alle tlii wickidnessis ; 

3. pat winsomes to alle ]?ine wickenesses ; 

4. Qui propitius fit omnibus iniquitatibus tuis ; 

5. Chi at merci de tutes les tues iniquitez ; 

1. and ]?ine adle ealle gehaelde. 

2. that helith alle thin infirraytees. 

3. J'at heles alle J>ine sekenesses. 

4. qui sanat omnes languores tuos. 

5. chi sained trestutes les tues enfermetez. 

IV. 

1. He alysde ]>m lif leof of forwyrde; 

2. That a^een bieth fro deth thi lif; 

3. fat bies fra sterving ]>i life derli ; 

4. Qui redemit de interitu vitam tuam ; 

5. Chi racated de mort la tue vie ; 

1. fylde ]?inne willan f^gere mid gode. 

2. that crouneth thee in mercy and mercy doingis. 

3. fat crounes fe with rewfes and with merci. 

4. qui coronat te in miseratione et misericordia. 

5. chi coruned tei en misericorde e miseraciuns. 



1. He fe gesigefseste sot5re miltse 

and fe mijdheorte mode getrymede ; 

2. That fulfiUeth in goode thingus thi diseyr ; 

3. fat fiUes in godes fi yherninges al ; 

4. Qui satiat in bonis desiderium tuum ; 

5. Chi raemplist en bones coses le tuen desiderie ; 

1. eart fu eadnowe earne gelicast 
on geoguSe nu gleawe geworden. 

2. shal be renewid as of an egle thig outhe. 

3. Als erne f i yhouthe be newed sal. 

4. renovabitur sic ut aquilas juventus tua. 

5. sera renovee sicume d'aigle la tue juvente. 



Lect. V. THE SURTEES PSALTER 219 

VI. 

1. Hafast ])u milde mod, milita strange 
drihten, 

2. Doende mercies the Lord, 

3. Doand mercies Laverd in land, 

4. Faciens misericordias Dominus, 

5. Faisanz misericordes nostre Sire, 

1. domas eallum ]?e deope her 
and ful treaflice teonan Jjolian. 

2. and dom to alle men snffrende wrong. 

3. And dome til alle un-right tholand. 

4. et judicium omnibus injuriam patientibns. 

5. e jugement a tuz torceunerie suffranz. 

VII. 

1. He his wegas dyde wise and cnSe 
Moyse ]?am mseran on msenige tid ; 

2. Knowen he made his weies to Moises; 

3. Konthe made he to Moises his waies wele ; 

4. Notas fecit vias suas Moysi ; 

5. Cuneudes fist les sues veies a Moysen ; 

1. swylce his willan eac werum Israhela. 

2. and to the sones of Irael his wiUis. 

3. His Avilles til sones of Irael. 

4. filiis Israhel voluntates suas. 

5. as fils Israel ses voluntez. 

vni. 

1. Mildheort pu eart and mihtig, mode ge})yldig, 
ece dryhten, swa fu a w£ere, 

2. Eeewere and merciful the Lord, 

3. Eew-fol and milde-herted Laverd gode, 

4. Misericors et miserator Dominus, 

5. Merciere e merciable nostre Sire, 

1. is ]?in milde mod mannum cy^ed. 

2. long abidende and myche merciful, 

3. And milde-herted and lang-mode. 

4. patiens et multum misericors, 

5. pacient e mult merciable. 



220 THE SUBTEES PSALTER Lect. V. 



IX. 

1. Nelle ]>VL d6 ende yrre habban, 

2. In to euermore lie slial not wrathen, 

3. Noghte wreth he sal in evermore, 

4. Non in finem irascitur, 

5. Neient en parmanableted iraistra, 

1. ne on ecnesse ]?e awa belgan. 

2. ne in to witlioute ende lie shal tbrete. 

3. Ne in ai sal lie threte jjar-fore. 

4. neque in ajternum indignabitur. 

5. ne en pardm-ableted ne manacera. 

X. 

1. Na J)u be gewyrhtum, wealdend, urum 
wommum wyrhtum woldest us don, 

2. Aftir oure synnes he dide not to vs, 

3. Noght after our sinnes dide he til us, 

4. Non secundum peccata nostra fecit nobis, 

5. Neient sulunc les noz pecchez fist a nus, 

1. ne sefler urum unryhte awhaer gyldan. 

2. ne aftir oure wickidnessis he jelde to us. 

3. Ne after our wickenes for-yheld us ]7us. 

4. neque secundum iniquitates nostras retribuit nobis. 

5. ne sulunc les noz iniquitez ne regueredunad a nus. 

XI. 

1. For]7on ]>u sefter heahweorce heofenes pines 
mildheortnysse mihtig drihten, 

2. For after the heijte of heuene fro erthe, 

3. For after heghnes of heven fra Jand, 

4. Quia secundum altitudinem coeli a terra. 

5. Kar sulunc la haltece del ciel de la terre, 

1. lustum cySdest )?am "pe lufedon ]>e. 

2. he strengthide his mercy vpon men dredende hym. 

3. Strenghjjed he his merci over him dredand. 

4. confirmavit Dominus misericordiam suam super timentes eum. 

5. esfor9ad la sue misericorde sur les cremanz sei. 



Lect. V, THE SURTEES PSALTER 221 



xn. 

1. Swa J)as foldan faidme bewindetJ, 
"pes eastrodor and jefter west, 

2. Hou myche the rising stant fro the going doun, 

3. How mikle est del stand west del fra, 

4. Quantum distat oriens ab occasu, 

5. Gumbien desestait li naissemenz del dechedement, 

1. He betweonan fam teonan and unriht 
us fram afyrde £eghw£er symble, 

2. aferr he made fi'o vs oure wickidnessis, 

3. Fer made he fra us oure wickenes swa. 

4. elongavit a nobis iniquitates nostras. 

6. luinz fist de nus les noz felunies. 

xni. 

1. Swa feeder ]?encet5 fasgere his bearnum 
milde weordan, 

2. What maner wise the fader hath mercy of the sonua, 

3. Als rewed es fadre of sones, 

4. Sic ut miseretur pater filiis, 

5. Cum faitement at merci li pere des filz, 

1. swa us mihtig god 
]?am pe hine lufiaS, liSe weorSe'5. 

2. the Lord dide mercy to men dredende hym; 

3. Rewed es Laverd, fare he wones, 

4. Ita misertus est Dominus 

5. merci ad li Sire 

3. Of ]?a ]7at him dredand be ; 

4. timentibus se ; 

5. des cremanz sei ; 

XIV. 

1. forjjan he calle can ure pearfe. . 

2. for he knew oure britil making, 

3. Fore our schaft wele knawes he. 

4. Quia ipse scit figmentum nostrum, ^ 

5. kar il conut la nostre faiture. 



222 THE SURTEES PSALTER Lect. Y. 

1. Gemune, niihtig god, pszt we synt moldan and dust, 

2. He recordide for pouder wee be, 

3. Mined es he wele in tlioglit 

4. Memento Domine 

5. Eecorda 

3. ]?at dust ere we and worth noght, 

4. quod pulvis suinus, 

5. qui nus sumes puldre ; 

XV. 

1. beo^ mannes dagas mawenum hege 
82ghwer anhce, 

2. a man as hey his dajes, 

3. Man his daies ere als hai, 

4. homo sic ut fa^num dies ejus, 

5. huem sicume fain li jurz de lui, 

1. eor'San blostman 
swa his lifdages Isene syndan. 

2. as the flour of the feld so he shal floure out, 

3. Als blome of felde sal he welyen awa. 

4. et sic ut flos agri, ita floriet. 

6. ensement cume la flur del camp, issi flurira. 

XVI. 

1. ponne he gast ofgife'S, 

2. For the spirit shal thurg passen in hym, 

3. For gaste thurgh-fare in him it sal, 

4. Quia spiritus pertransiit ab eo, 

5. Kar li espiriz trespassera en lui 

1. sy'SSan hine ga^rsbedd sceal 
wunian wide-fyrh'S, 

2. and he shal not stonde stille ; 

3. And noght undre- stand he sal with-al. 

4. et non erit. 

5. e ne parmaindra. 

1. ne him man sy(5'San wast 
jeghwer elles cenige stowe. 

2. and he shal no more knowen his place. 

3. And knawe na-mare sal he 

4. et non cognoscit antplius 

5. e ne cunuistra ampleis 



Lect. V. THE SURTEES PSALTER 223 

S. His stede, where f»at it sal be* 

4. locum simm. 

5. sun liu. 

xvn. 

1. J)in mildheortnes, mihtig drihten, 

purli ealra worulda woruld wislic stande^, 

2. The mercy forsothe of the Lord fro withoute ende,' 
S. And Laverdes merci evre dwelland, 

4. Misericordia autem Domini a sseculo est, 

5. Mais la misericorde nostre Segnur de parmanableted, 

1. deorust and gedefust ofer ealle ]?a fe ondrseda'S him, 

2. and vnto withoute ende, vpon men dredende hym. 

3. And til ai our him dredand. 

4. et usque in speculum sgeculi super timentes eum. 

5. e desque en parmanableted sur les cremanz lui. 

1. Swa his soSfsestnyss swylce standee 
ofer ]7ara bearna beam, 

2. And the rijtwisnesse of hym in to the sones of sones, 

3. And in sones of sones his rightwisenes, 

4. et justitia ejus super filios filiorum, 

5. e la justise de lui es filz des filz, 

XVIII. 

1. pe his bebodu healda^ ; 

2. to hem that kepen his testament. 

3. To pas ]7at yhemes wite-word his ; 

4. custodientibus testamentum ejus ; 

5. a icels chi guar dent le testament de lui ; 

1. and f>£es gemynde mycle habba'S 

2. And myndeful thei ben 

3. And mined sal J?ai be, night and dai, 

4. et memoria retinentibus 

5. e remembreur sunt 

1. ]?at heo his wisfsest word wynnum efnan. 

2. of his maundemens, to do them. 

3. Of his bodes to do Jpa.ni ai. 

4. mandata ejus ut faciant ea. 

5. des cumandemenz de lui medesme, a faire lea. 



224 THE SURTEES PSALTER. Lect. V. 



XIX. 

1. On lieofonhame halig drihten 
his healisetl liror timbrade^ 

2. The Lord in heuene made redi his sete, 

3. Laverd in heven graiped sete his, 

4. Dominus in coelo paravit sedem suam, 

5. Li Sire el ciel aprestad sun siege, 

1. ])anon he eorSricum eallum wealde^. 

2. and his reume to alle shal lordshipen. 

3. And his rike til alle sal Laverd in blis. 

4. et regnum ejus omnium dominabitur. 

5. e le regne de lui-medesme a tutes choses seguurei-ad. 

XX. 

1. Ealle his englas ecne drihten 
bletsian bealde, 

2. Blisse ^ee to the Lord, alle his aungelis, 

3. Blisses to Laverd with alle your might, 

4. Benedicite Dominum, 

5. Beneiseiz le Segnor, 

3. Alle his aungels ]7at ere bright ; 

4. omnes angeli ejus ; 

5. tuit li angele de lui ; 

1. heora bliSne frean 
msegyn and mihta ]?a his msere word, 
habbaS and healda^ and hyge fremma^, 

2. mi^ti bi vertue doende the woord of hym, 

3. Mightand of thew, doand his worde swa, 

4. potentes virtute, qui facitis verbum ejus, 

5. poanz par vertud, faisanz la parole de lui, 

1. [wanting in Anglo-Saxon text] 

2. to ben herd the vols of his sermounes. 

3. To here steven of lus saghs ma. 

4. ad audiendum vocem sermonura ejus. 

5. k oir la voiz de ses sermons. 



Lect. V. THE SURTEES PSALTER 225 



XXI. 

1. Bletsian drihten eal his bearna mcegen, 

2. Blessith to tlie Lord all jee his vertues, 

3. Blisses to Laverd, alle mightes his, 

4. Benedicite Dominnm, omnes virtiites ejus, 

5. Beneisseiz al Segnor, tutes les vertuz de lui, 

1. and his ]?egna preat, J^e pait pence nu, 
J»jet hi his willan wyrcean georne. 

2. Jee his seruauns that don his wil. 
8. His hine pat does pat his wille is. 

4. Ministri ejus qui facitis voluntatem ejus. 

5. li suen ministre, chi faites la voluntad de lui. 

XXIL 

1. Eall his agen geweorc ecne drihten 
on his agenum stede eac bletsige, 

2. Blessith to the Lord, alle gee his werkis. 

3. Blisses Laverd, with wille and thoght, 

4. Benedicite Dominum, 

5. Beneisseiz le Segnur, 

3. Alle pe werkes pat he wroght. 

4. omnia opera ejus. 

5. trestutes les ovres de lui, 

1. pajr him his egsa anweald stande'S. 

2. in alle place gee his domynaciouns. 

3. In alle stedes of his laverdshipe ma, 

4. in omni loco dominationis ejus. 

5. en chescun liu de la sue dominaciun. 

1. Bletsige min sawl bliSe drihten ! 

2. blesse thou, my soule, to the Lord I 

3. Blisse, mi saule, ai Laverd swa ! 

4. benedic, anima mea, Dominum ! 

5. beneis, la meie aneme, al Segnor I 

The only remark I think it necessary to make on the grammar of 
this psalm is that the phrase, man his daies^ in verse xv., where his 

Q 



226 KICHARD CCEUR DE LION Lect. V. 

serves as a possessive sign, is evidently a literal translation from the 
Latin homo * * dies ejus. The origin of this anomalous form in 
Layamon may perhaps be traced to a similar source. It should be 
added that the translators have often followed different texts of their 
original. 

A circumstance which shows the continued poverty of English 
intellect in the thirteenth century, its want of nationality, and 
its incapacity for original composition, is that, while it produced 
numerous translations of French authors, and revived old-world 
fables of domestic growth, it gave birth to no considerable work 
connected with the real history of England, except the chronicle 
of Eobert of Grioucester. We can hardly imagine a finer subject 
in itself, or one which appealed more powerfully to the sympa- 
thies and prejudices of the time, and especially to the national 
pride of Englishmen, if any such were felt, than the crusades of 
Eichard CcBur de Lion ; and it would infallibly have inspired 
poetry, if, in an age when tales of ^ wild adventure were so 
popular, any poetical genius had existed in the people. I can- 
not find, however, that, at that period, the exploits of Eichard 
had been made the subject of any original English poem, and 
the only early work we have on the subject, in an English dress, 
belongs to the following century, and is avowedly translated 
from the French. 

It appears, however, that Joseph of Exeter, a contemporary 
and companion of Eichard, celebrated his exploits in a Latin 
poem called Antiocheis, of which only a few verses are extant, 
and that a pilgrim called Gulielmus Peregrinus wrote in Latin 
verse on the same subject, but these do not seem to have ever 
found English translators. 

The following extract will serve as a specimen of the diction 
and poetical character of the principal poem on the exploits of 
this king, which were made known to English readers in the 
fourteenth century by a translation from the French of an 
unknown writer. 



Lect. V. mCHARD CCEUR DE LION • 227 

Lord Jesus kyng of glorye 

Suche grace and vyctoiye 

Thou sente to Kyng Rychard, 

That neuer was found coward ! 

It is ful god to here in jeste 

Off his prowesse and hys conqueste. 

Fele romanses men make newe, 

Of good knyghtes, strong and trewe, 

Off hey dedys men rede romance, 

Bothe in Engeland and in France : 

Off Rowelond, and of Olyver, 

And of every doseper; 

Of Alisander, and Charlemain, 

Off kyng Ai'thor, and off Gawayn, 

How they wer knyghtes good and curteys; 

Off Turpyn, and of Ocier Daneys; 

Off Troye men rede in ryme, 

What werre ther was in olde tyme ; 

Off Ector, and of Achy lies, 

What folk they slowe in that pres. 

In Frensshe bookys this rym is wrought, 

Lewede menne knoAve it nought ; 

Lewede menne cunne French non; 

Among an hondryd unnethis on ; 

And nevertheles, with glad chere, 

Fele off hem that wolde here, 

Noble justis, I undyrstonde, 

Of doughty knyghtes off Yngelonde. 

Par foie, now I woll yow rede, 

Off a kyng, doughty in dede ; 

Kyng Rychard, the werryor best. 

That men fynde in ony jeste. 

Now alle that hereth this talkyng, 

God geve hem alle good endyng! 

Lordynges, herkens beforne, 
How Kyng Rychard was borne, 
Hys fadjT hyghte Kyng Henry. 
In hys tyme, sykyrly, 
Als I fynde in my sawe, 
Seynt Thomas was i-slawe ; 
Q2 



RICnARD C(EUR DE LION Lect. V. 

At Cantyrbury at the awter-ston, 

Wher many myraclys are i-don. 

"When he was twenty wynter olde, 

He was a kyng swythe bolde, 

He wolde no wyiF, I undyrstonde, 

With grete tresore though he her fonde. 

Nevyrtheles hys barons hym sedde, 

That he graunted a wyff to wedde. 

Hastely he sente hys sondes, 

Into manye dyverse londes, 

The feyreste wyman that wore on liff 

Men wolde bringe hym to wyiF. 

Messangeres were redy dyght ; 

To schippe they wente that ylke nyght. 

Anon the sayl up thay drowgh, 

The wynd hem servyd wel inowgh. 

Whenne they come on mydde the sea, 

(No wynd onethe hadden hee; 

Therfore hem was swythe woo.) 

Another schip they countryd thoo, 

Swylk on ne seygh they never non ; 

All it was whyt of huel-bon, 

And every nayl with gold begrave : 

Off pure gold was the stave ; 

Her mast was y vory ; 

Off samyte the sayl wytterly. 

Her ropes wer off tuely sylk, 

Al so whyt as ony myllr. 

That noble schyp Avas al withoute, 

With clothys of golde spred aboute, 

And her loof and her wyndas, 

Off asure forsothe it was. 

In that schyp ther wes i-dyght 
Knyghts and ladyys of mekyll myght} 
And a lady therinne was, 
Bryght as the sunne thorugh the glas. 
Her men aborde gunne to stande, 
And sesyd that other with her honde^ 
And prayde hem for to dwelle, 
And her counsayl for to telle: 



Lect. y, EICHAKD C(EUR DE LION 229 

And they graunted witli all skylle 

For to telle al at her wylle : 

* Savoo wyde landes we have went, 

For Kyng Henry ns has sent, 

For to seke hym a qwene, 

The fayreste that myghte fonde bene.' 

Upros a kyng off a chayer, 

With that word they spoke ther. 

The chayer was charbocle ston, 

Swylk on ne sawgh they never non: 

And two dukes hym besyde, 

Noble men and mekyl off pryde, 

And welcomed the messangers ylkone. 

Into that schyp they gunne gone. 

Thrytty knyghtes, withouten lye, 

Forsothe was in that company e. 

Into that riche schyp they went, 

As messangers that weren i-sent ; 

Knyghtes and ladyes com hem ayene ; 

Sevene score, and moo I wene, 

Welcomyd hem alle at on worde. 

They sette tresteles, and layde a borde; 

Cloth of sylk theron was sprad, 

And the kyng hymselve bad, 

That his donghter wer forth fette, 

And in a chayer before him sette. 

Trumpes begonne for to blowe ; 

Sche was sette forth in a throwe, 

With twenty knyghtes her aboute, 

And moo off ladyes that wer stoute; 

All they gunne knele her twoo. 

And aske her what she wolde have doo. 

They eeten and drank and made hem glade, 

And the kyng hymself hem bade. 

Whenne they hadde nygh i-eete. 
Adventures to speke they nought forgeete. 
The kyng ham tolde, in hys resoun, 
It com hym thorugh a vysyoun. 
In his land that he cam froo. 
Into Yngelond for to goo ; 



230 EIGHARD C(EUR DE LION Lect. V. 

And his douglityr that was so dere, 
For to wende bothe in fere. 

* In this manere we have us dyght, 
Into that lond to Avende ryght.' 
Thenne aunsweryd a messanger, 
Hys name was callyd Bernager, 

* Forther wole we seke nought, 
To my lord she schal be brought : 
"When he her with eyen schal sen, 
Fol wel payed woll he ben.' 

The wynd was out off the northeste, 
And servede hem atte the beste. 
At the Tour they gunne arryve. 
To London the knyghtes wente belyve. 
The messangers the kyng have told 
Of that lady fayr and bold, 
Ther he lay, in the Tour, 
Off that lady whyt so flour. 
Kyng Henry gan hym son dyght. 
With erls, barons, and many a knyght, 
Agayn the lady for to wende : 
For he was curteys and hende. 
The damysele on lond Avas led. 
And clothis oiF gold before her spred, 
And her fadyr her beforn. 
With a coron oiFgold i-corn; 
The messangers by ylk a syde, 
And nienstralles with mekyl pryde. 

Weber's Metrical Romances, vol. ii. 

The early English rhymers and annalists observe a similar 
mysterious silence with regard to King Alfred, the memory of 
whom, as a Saxon King, one would suppose, could hardly ever 
have perished among the direct descendants of his subjects, 
fellow-soldiers, and citizens. But the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 
which devotes about ten octavo pages to a dry detail of some of 
the principal military and political events of his reign, does not 
notice a single trait of his moral or intellectual character, a 
single interesting incident of his private life, or a single 
fact from which it is possible to form even the most sreneral 



Lect. V. ROBERT OF (GLOUCESTER 231 

estimate of his merits as a ruler, or his personality as a man. 
Early English vernacular literature is equally barren of infor- 
mation respecting this remarkable prince, and popular tradition 
retained no remembrance of him, except as his name was 
connected with several collections of proverbs which were 
ascribed to him. 

The poems — for such we must call them if all rhymed com- 
positions are poetry — of Eobert of Grloucester, who flourished 
about the year 1300, are of considerable philological importance, 
and of some value as contributions to our knowledge of the 
history of England, though their literary merit is of a humble 
order. 

The principal work of this author is a chronicle of England, 
and there is a collection of lives of the English saints, which is 
now ascribed, upon satisfactory evidence, to the same writer. 
The subject of this latter production would naturally tend, in 
that age, to give to it a wider circulation than could be acquired 
by a voluminous chronicle in great part relating to remote 
secular events ; and accordingly we find that the manuscripts of 
the lives are much more numerous than those of the history. 

The chronicle deserves notice, not only for its contributions of 
otherwise unknown facts, but because it is the most ancient 
professed history in the English language. It extends from the 
siege of Troy to the death of Henry III. in 1272. The earlier 
part is founded on Greoffrey of Monmouth, the latter generally 
on more trustworthy sources, and it conveys some information 
of value upon both the physical and the social condition of 
England in the thirteenth century. The following lines are 
favourable specimens of the author's manner : — 

Engelond ys a wel god lond, ich wene of eche loiid best, 

Y set in pe ende of ]?e world, as al in J^e West. 

]>e see go]? liym al a bonte, he stont as an yle. 

Here fon^ heo^ durre^ ]?e lasse doiite, but hit be ]?orw gyle 

Of fol^ of ]?e selue lond, as me^ hap y seye wyle. 

^fon, pi. foes. 2 keo, pers. pron. referring to England. ^ durrc,needs, Ger. dar£ 
fol. probably error fovfolc. * 7ne, men. 



232 ROBERT OP aiOUCESTER Lect. V. 

From Sou]) to Nor]) he ys long eijte hondred myle : 

And foure hondred myle brod from Est to West to wende, 

A mydde ])o lond as yt be, and nop, as by ]>e on ende, 

Plente me may in Engelond of alle gode y se, 

Bute folc yt for gulte oJ>er jeres Ipe worse be. 

For Engelond ys ful ynow of fruy t and of tren, 

Of wodes and of parkes, ]?at ioye yt ys to sen. 

Of foules and of bestes of wylde and tame al so. 

Of salt fysch and eche fresch, and fayre ryueres ])er to, 

Of Welles swete and colde ynow, of lesen ^ and of mede. 

Of seluer or and of gold, of tyn and of lede. 

Of stel, of yrn and of bras, of god corn gret won. 

Of why te and of wolle god, betere ne may be non. 

Wateres he haj) eke gode y now, ac ^ at be fore alle oper pxQ 

Out of the lond in to J)e see, armes as ])ei be. 

Ware. by ]>e schippes mowe come fro ])e se and wende, 

And brynge on lond god y now, a boute in eche ende. 

In ]?e centre of Canterbury mest plente of fysch ys. 
And mest chase a boute Salesburi of wylde bestes y wys. 
At London schippes mest, & wyn at Wyncestre. 
At Herford schep & orf 3, & fruy t at Wircestre. 
Sope a boute Couyntre, yrn at Gloucestre. 
Metel, as led & tyn, in ]>e contre of Excestre. 
Euerwik of fairest wode, Lyncolne of fayrest men, 
Grantebrugge and Hontyndone mest plente of dup fen. 
Ely of fairest place, of fairest sijte Roucestre. 
Euene ajeyn Fraunce stonde ]>e contre of Chichestre, 
Norwiche a^eyn Denemarc, Chestre a^eyn Yrlond, 
Duram a^eyn Norwei, as ich vnderstonde. 
])re wondres }?er be]? in Engolond, none more y not. 
])at water of BaJ)e ys ])at on, ])at euer ys yliche hot. 
-And fersch & euere springe, ne be chele'* no so gxet, 

Suche baj?es ])er hep fele in pe clos & in the stret. 
Upon pe pleyn of Salesbury ])at o])er wonder ys, 
psit Stonhyngel ys y clepud, no more wonder nys. 
pe stones stonde]) pev so grete, no more ne mowe be, 
Euene vp rygt & sw}^]?e hye, ]?at wonder it is to se : 

* lesen, pastures. * ac, but. The punctuation is regulated rather by the 
metre than by the syntax. ' orf, cattle, here, and generally, black cattle^ 

•wrongly explained by Coleridge as sheej[>, * chde, cold, modern chill. 



Lect. V. EGBERT OF GLOUCESTER 233 

And o]?er ligge]? hye aboue, ])at a mon may be of a ferd, 

fat vclie mon wondre may how heo were first a rered. 

For no]7er gyn, ny monne's streng]?e, yt ])juke]>, ne myjte yt do. 

Telle me schal here afturward of ]?is wondres bofe two, 

And how heo were first y mad. pe |;ridde wonder ys 

Up pe hul of ])e pek. Nor]? wynd J?ere y wys 

Out of J)e erj>e ofte come]?, of holes as yt were, 

And bio we]? vp of ])ilke holes, so fat y t wolde a rere 

And bere vp grete clo]?es, jef heo were ]?er ney, 

And bloAve hem here and ]?ere vpon ]?e lofle on hey. 

Fayre weyes monyon ]?er be]? in Engolonde, 

Ac foure mest of alle fer be]? ich vnderstonde, 

]?et ]?e old Isynges mad, were }?oru me may wende 

From ]?e on ende of Engelond nor}? to ]?e o]?er ende. 

From ]?e Sou]? tille}? * in to ]?e Nor]? Eningestret; 

And from J?e Est in to ]?e West Ikenildestrete. 

From Douere in to Chestre tille]? Watlingestrete, 

From Sou]? Est in to Nor]? West, and fat ys som del grete. 

fe fer]?e is mest of alle, fat tillef from Tottenais, 

From f e on ende Cornewayle anon to Catenays, 

Fro f e Norf Est in to Souf West in to Engelonde's ende : 

Fosse me clepuf f ike wey, fat by mony god toun dof wende, 

So clene lond ys Engolond, and so pur with outen ore,^ 

fat fe fairest men of f e world f er inne bef y bore. 

So clene, and fair, & purwyt^, among of er men heo bef, 

fat me knowef hem in eche lond by sy^te, where me hem sef . 

So clene al so' is fat lond, and monne's blod so pur, 

fat f e gret vnel* comef not fer, fat me clepuf fo holy fur, 

fat for fretef monnes lymes, ryjt as heo were brende. 

Ac men of France in f ilke vnel me syf sone a mende, 

gef heo ben broujt in to Engolond : war f orw me may "svyte, 

fat Engelond ys lond best, as yt is y "vvrite. 

The Lives and Legends of the Saints, by the same author, do 
not differ grammatically from the Chronicle, but they are more 
popular in tone, and in general more interesting, because they 
are, no doubt, very faithful reflections of the opinions and senti- 

* tille]}, leads. ^ ore, here dross, as of metal, elsewhere, mercy, * purw^t, 
pure-white, fair-complexioned. • vnel, sickness, plague. 



234 EGBERT OF GLOUCESTER Lect. V. 

ments, as well as of the habits and manners of the English 
people, at a period concerning which our sources of information 
are scanty. 

The Life of St. Brandan, published by the Percy Society, is 
of the same fabulous character as a large proportion of the 
monkish legends of the Middle Ages, but the martyrdom of 
Becket, also published by the same Society, has very much 
higher pretensions to literary merit than most parts of the 
Chronicle can boast, and is by no means wanting in dramatic 
life and spirit. The most curious part of the Lives of the 
Saints is a cosmographical, astronomical, and physiological 
fragment printed in Wright's Popular Treaties on Science. Of 
course, scientific accuracy is not to be looked for in a work of 
that period, but the treatise in question, in its views of the laws 
of nature, and of great cosmical facts — such as the relative mag- 
nitudes and distances of the sun and moon, the phases of the 
latter, which are illustrated by comparing her to a ball shone 
upon by a candle, and the moon's influence on the tides — is much 
less absurd than most popular works of the age, and therefore, 
with all its errors, it may be looked upon as containing truth 
enough to make it an instructive essay. The sun is stated to 
be one hundred and sixty-five times, the earth nine times, as 
large as the moon, and as to the distance of the*heaven or firma- 
ment from the earth, we are told that, — 

Moche is bituene hevene and urthe, for the man that mijte go 

Eche dai evene fourti myle uprigt and eke mo, 

He ne scholde to the hexte hevene, that al day je i-seoth, 

Come in eipe thousend ger, ther as the sterren beoth; 

And thej Adam oure furste fader hadde bi-gonne anon, 

Tho he was furst y-maked, toward hevene gon, 

And hadde ech dai fourti myle evene upri^t i-go. 

He nadde no^t gut to hevene i-come bi a thousend jer and mo. 

The proportion of Komance words in the general diction of 
Eobert of Grioucester does not exceed four or five per cent., but 
the number of vocables of this class, which make their first 



Lect. V. ROBERT OF BRUNNE 235 

appearance in his works, is considerable, and his additions to 
the current vocabulary of English are important, though other- 
wise he cannot be said to have done much for the elevation of 
the native literature. 

The rhymed history usually kno^vn as the Chronicle of Eobert 
Manning, or Eobert of Brunne, is the most voluminous work in 
the English of the early part of the fourteenth century, and it 
is the last conspicuous production belonging to what most phi- 
lologists consider as the first period of the English language, 
which, as before remarked, extends from about 1250 to about 
1350. The first part of this chronicle is a translation from 
the Brut of Wace. It comes down to the death of Cadwalader, 
and has never been printed. The second, a translation from 
the Anglo-Norman of Peter de Langtoft, but with many 
enlargements and corrections, brings down the history of 
England to the death of Edward I. This was published by 
Hearne in 1725, under the name of Langtoft's Chronicle, and 
was reprinted in 1810. The style of de Brunne is superior to 
that of Eobert of Grloucester in ease, though we can hardly say, 
grace of expression. His literary merits are slender, and his 
diction; which is formed upon that of Eobert of Grloucester, 
though belonging to a rather more advanced period of philo- 
logical development, is distinguished from that of his master 
by some important characteristics. The vocabulary is consi- 
derably enlarged by new Eomance words, but the principal 
difference between Eobert of Grloucester and Eobert of Brunne 
is, that while the former makes the third person singular indi- 
cative present of the verb in tli, and generally, though indeed 
not uniformly, uses the Saxon form of the personal pronoun, 
the latter regularly employs the verbal ending s, and has scho 
for the nominative singular feminine, and ]? e i in the nomina- 
tive, }> e r in the genitive or possessive plural of the personal 
pronoun. 

The prologue to the unpublished part of the work, which is 
de Brunne's own^ is remarkable for its bearing on certain 



236 EGBERT OP BRUNNE Lect. V. 

questions of old English versification. I introduce it as a favour-* 
able specimen of his style, and it is proper to remark that the 
translator, in both divisions of his work, followed the versifica- 
tion of his original ; the metre in the first part being octosyllabic, 
while the lines in the latter vary from eight syllables to the 
Alexandrine, or exametron of six feet, which was the heroic 
measure of that age. It will be found in Hearne's edition. 
Appendix to Preface, p. xcvi. 

Lordynges, that be now here, 

If je wille Hstene & lere 

All f e story of Inglande, 

Als Robert Mannyng wryten it fand, 

& on Inglysch has it schewed, 

Not for J»e lerid bot for ]?e lewed, 

For J>o ]7at in ]?is land wonn, 

])at pe Latyn no Frankys conn, 

For to haf solace & gameii 

In felawschip when J^ai sitt samen. 

And it is wisdom forto wytten 

J)e state of ]?e land, and haf it wryten: 

What manere of folk first it wan, 

& of what kynde it first began. 

And gude it is for many thynges, 

For to here J>e dedis of kynges, 

Whilk were foles & whilk were wyse. 

& whilk of }>am couth mast quantyse ; 

And whilk did wrong & whilk ryght, 

& w^hiJk mayntend pes & f^ght. 

Of )>are dedes salle be my sawe, 

In what tyme & of what lawe, 

I salle jow schewe fi-o gre to gre^ 

Sen J?e tyme of sir Noe, 

Fro Noe vnto Eneas, 

& what betwix jjam was, 

And fro Eneas tille Brutus tyme, 

J»at kynde he telles in Jjis ryme. 

Fro Brutus tille Cadwaladres, 

])e last Bryton fat |)is lande lees. 



I 



JiECT. V, EGBERT OP BRUNNE 237 

Alle jjat kynde & alle tlie frute, 
fat come of Brutus fat is fe Brute; 
And fe ryght Brute is told nomore, 
fan the Brytons tyme wore. 
After f e Bretons f e Inglis camen, 
f e lordschip of f is lande fai namen ; 
South & North, West & Est, 
fat calle men now f e Inglis gest. 
When f ai first amang f e Bretons, 
fat now ere Inglis fan were Saxons, 
Saxons Inglis hight alle oliche. 
fat aryued vp at Sandwyche, 
In f e kynge's tyme Vortogerne, 
fat f e lande walde f am not werne. 
fat were maysters of alle f e tof ire, 
Hengist he hight & Hors his brof ire. 
f es were hede, als we fynde, 
Where of is comen oure Inglis kynde. 
A hundrethe & fifty jere f ai com, 
Or fat rece5'ued Cristendom. 
So lang woned f ai f is lande in, 
Or fa herde out of Saynt Austyn, 
Amang fe Bretons with mykelle wo, 
In sclaundire, in threte & in thro, 
f es Inglis dedes ^e may here. 
As Pers telles alle f e manere. 
One mayster Wace f e Frankes telles, 
f e Brute alle fat f e Latyn spelles. 
Fro Eneas tille Cadwaladre, 
f is mayster Wace f er leues he. 
And ryght as mayster Wace says, 
- I telle myn Inglis f e same ways. 
For mayster Wace f e Latyn alle rymes, 
fat Pers ouerhippis many tymes. 
Mayster Wace f e Brute alle redes, 
& Pers tellis alle f e Inglis dedes. 
f er mayster Wace of f e Brute left, 
Ryght begynnes Pers eft, 
And telHs forth f e Inglis story, 
and as he says, fan say I. 



238 ROBERT OF BRUNNE Lect, V. 

AIs ]?ai haf wryteii & sayd, 
Haf I alle in myn Inglis layd, 
In symple speclie as I couthe, 
fat is lightest in manne's monthe. 
I mad noght for no disours, 
Ne for no seggers no harpours, 
Bot for 'pe luf of symple men, 
J>at strange Inglis caii not ken. 
For many it ere ]7at strange Inglis 
In ryme wate neuer what it is, 
And bot ]mi wist what it mente, 
Ellis me thoght it were alle schente. 
I made it not forto be praysed, 
Bot at pe lewed meii were aysed. 
if it were made in ryme con wee, 
Or in strangere or enterlace, 
fat rede Inglis it ere inowe, 
fat couthe not haf coppled a kowe, 
fat outhere in couwee or in baston 
Som suld haf ben fordon, 
So fat fele men fat it herde, 
Suld not witte ho we fat it ferde. 
I see in song in sedgeyng tale 
Of Erceldoun & of Kendale, 
Non f am says as f ai f am wroght, 
& in f er sayng it semes noght. 
fat may f ou here in Sir Tristrem, 
Ouer gestes it has f e steeni, 
Ouer all fat is or was, 
If mefi it sayd as made Thomas, 
Bot I here it no maii so say, 
fat of som copple som is away. 
So fare fayre saying here beforne, 
Is fare trauayle nere forlorne. 
f ai sayd it for pride & nobleye^ 
fat non were suylk as f ei. 
And alle fat f ai Avild ouerwhere, 
Alle fat ilk wille now forfare, 
f ai sayd in so quainte Inglis, 
fat manyone wate not what it i^ 



Lect. V, EGBERT OF BRUNNE 239 

Jjerfore heuyed wele J)e more 
In strange ryme to tranayle sore, 
And my witte was onre thynne, 
So strange speche to tranayle in. 
And forsoth I contli noght 
So strange Inglis as J>ai Avi'oglit, 
' And men besoght me many a tyme, 

To turne it bot in light ryme. 
])ai saj'd, if I in strange it turne, 
To here it manyon suld skiu-ne. 
For it ere names fulle selcouthe, 
fat ere not vsed now in monthe. 
And perfore for ]>e comonalte, 
pat blythely wild listen to me, 
On light lange I it begaii, *" 

For Inf of J>e lewed maii, 
To telle ]7am J?e chaunces bolde, 
])at here before was don & tolde. 
For ]>is makyng I wille no mede, 
Bot gude prayere, when je it rede. 
J>erfore, ^e lordes lewed, 
For wham I haf ]?is Inglis schewed, 
Prayes to God he gyf me grace, 
I trauayled for gour solace. 
Of Brunne I am, if any me blame, 
Eobert Mannyng is my name. 
Blissed be he of God of heuene, 
]7at me Robert with gude wille neuene. 
In pe thrid Edwarde's tyme was I, 
Wheii I wrote alle J>is story. 
In ])e hous of Sixille I was a thro we, 
Danz Eobert of Maltone J?at ge know 
Did it wryte for felawes sake, 
When J>ai wild solace make. 

The thirteenth century produced some interesting and curious 
didactic poems. Those which are translated or imitated from 
French or Latin models have, as might be expected, greater 
smoothness of versification, but less originality of thought than 
those whicli seem to be of native invention. One of the best 



240 THE BODY AND THE SOUL Lect. V. 

specimens of the former class is the dialogue between the body 
and the soul, printed in the Appendix to the Camden Society's 
edition of the Latin poems ascribed to Walter Mapes. 

This poem is believed by the editor to be of the thirteenth 
century, and there are manuscripts of the English version, as 
well as of corresponding French and Latin texts, which cannot 
be of a much later date. I cannot, however, resist the con- 
viction that the manuscript from which this text is printed is 
more recent, for its dialect is grammatically more modern than 
that of almost any English writer before the time of Chaucer, 
The English poem is a translation, but there is reason to think 
that the Latin original is a native English composition. It has 
merit both of thought and of expression, and the interesting 
glimpses it gives of the life and manners of its time invest it 
with some historical value ; for though it extends to but two 
hundred and fifty lines, it contains no inconsiderable amount of 
real information on these subjects.* 

The commencement of the poem is as follows : — 

Als I lay in a winteris ny t, in a droukening ' bifor the day, 
Vor sothe I sanj a selly^ syt, a body on a here lay, 
That havde ben a mody ^ kny^t, and Intel served God to pay^; 
Loren he haved the lives lyjt ; the gost was oute, and scholde away. 
Wan the gost it scholde go, yt bi-wente ^ and with-stod, 
Bi-helod the body there it cam fro, so serfulli with dredli mod ; 
It seide, ' weile and walawo ! wo worthe thi fleys, thi foule blod I 
Wreche bodi, w^y listou^ so, that jwilene were so wilde and wod? 

* There are many points of resemblance between tbls poem and an Anglo-Saxon 
dialogue on tbe same subject, published from a MS. of the twelfth century, by 
Sir T. Phillips. The mutilated condition of the latter renders the comparison 
difficult, but the list of luxuries in the old English work seems to be much more 
copious than that in the Anglo-Saxon, and of course to indicate an advance in 
the comforts and refinements of life. Although the copy published by Sir T. 
Phillips is of the twelfth century, the dialect belongs to an earlier date, and the 
poem was, in all probability, -written before the Norman Conquest had introduced 
the elegancies, which soon followed the transfer of the English crown to the head 
of a French prince. 

1 droukening, slumber. * sdly, strange. ' modyt proud, brave. * bi 
ivente, turned back. 



Lect. V. THE BODY AND SOUL 241 

Tliow that were woned to ride heyre on horse in and out, 
So koweynte knit^, i-knd^ so wide, as a lyun fers and proud, 
jwere is al tlii michele pride, and tlii lede^ that was so loud? 
jwi listou there so bare side, i-pricked* in that pore schroud? 
jwere beon thi castles and thi toures ? thi chaumbres and thi riche 

halles ? 
I-peynted with so riche iloures? and thi riche robes alle? 
Thine cowltes-'' and thi covertoures? thi cendels and thi riche palles? 
Wrechede, it is now thi bour, to nioruv/e thouj schalt ther inne falle. 
jwere ben thi murdli^ wedes? thi somers'^, with thi riche beddes? 
Thi proude palefreys and thi stedes, that thouj haddest in dester 

leddes?8 
Thi faucouns that were noujt to grede ? and thine houndes that thou 

ledde? 
Me thinketh God is the to guede^, that alle thine frend beon fro the 

fledde. 
jwere ben thine cokes snelle, that scholden gon greithe thi mete, 
With spetes ^°, swete for to smelle ? that thouj nevere werere fol of 

frete,ii 
To do that foule fleys to suwelle ^^, that foule wormes scholden ete? 
And thouj havest the pine of helle with glotonye me bi-gete, 
For God schop the aftir his schap, and gaf the bothe Avyt and skil; 
In thi loking^3 ^^^s i-laft, to wisse aftir thin oinie wil.' 
' Ne toe I nevere Avyche-craft, ne wyst I jwat was guod nor il, 
Bote as a wretche dumb and mad, bote as touj taujtest ther til. 
Set to serven the to queme ^^, bothe at even and a moruen, 
Sithin I was the bi-taujt ^^ to jeme ^^, fro the time that thoug was born; 
Thouj that dedes couthest deme, scholdest habbe be war bi-forn 
Of mi folye, as it semet ; noAV with thi selve thouj art for-lorn. 

The minor poems of the first age of English literature may 
be divided into ballads, political songs and devotional verse. 
Many of these, including some of the most curious and im- 
portant, are in Latin. These of course have not much philo- 

* Icowcynte Jcnit, quaintly, cunningly framed. ^ i-Jcud, known. ^ Jcdc, Toice. 
* i-2oricJced, wrapped or decked. ^ cowltcs, quilts. ^ murdli, mirthful, gay. 
' somcrs, bedsteads. ^ in dester Icddes, led on the right hand ; the plural form of 
the participle is curious. ^ guede, should he gnede, niggardly, seyere. '" sjoetcs, 
this would regularly be spits, but I suspect it is here spices. " frcte, eating. 
*2 siiwcllc, meat, relish to bread. '^ lohing, care, custody, power. ^■* to qxieme^ 
to please. '* bi-tauit, committed. *^ to ^eme, to keep. 

R 



242 POLITICAL SONGS Lect. V. 

logical relation to our present subject, and I cannot notice them 
further than to state their existence, and to invite attention to 
them as well worthy of perusal. 

The variety of metres in these productions is great, and 
though we do not find all the modern forms of the stanza in 
early English verse, yet there are few poetic measures examples 
of which may not be produced from that period. The narrative 
poems in general have little to mark them as English, except 
the language in which they are written. Poems of this character 
would circulate mainly among the comparatively uneducated 
classes, and the copyists, by whom they were transcribed, would 
generally be persons of less accurate scholastic training and 
habits than those engaged in the multiplication of works de- 
signed for readers of higher culture. Hence the manuscripts 
containing them would be more negligently executed, and, con- 
sequently, are less to be relied on, as evidences of the gram- 
matical character of the language, than works of higher aims 
and greater literary merit. 

These poems are generally anonymous, a circumstance which 
has been thought to show that they were translations ; but of 
this we have often better proof in internal evidence, or in the 
existence of the French originals, in manuscripts of more 
ancient date. In fact, it was only when the national spirit 
was awakened to distinct consciousness, by the internal struggle 
called the Barons' wars, that sufficient literary ambition was 
roused to prompt to original composition ; and it has been justly 
remarked that the general want of literary taste is shown by 
the fact that the best, most natural, and most graceful pro- 
ductions of French poets were neglected, while far inferior 
works were translated in considerable numbers. 

The political songs and satires of the thirteenth and fourteenth 
centuries are an interesting feature of early English literature, 
not as possessing merit of conception or of execution, but 
because they are the first symptoms of a new life, the first 
evidences of nascent nationality in modern England. They 
have .some resemblance to the popular political poetry of recent 



Lect. V. USE OF FRENCH IN EUROPE 243 

times, at least thej have its grossness, but they are wanting in 
the humour which characterises later English verse of the 
same class. Most of the extant political poems of the period 
we are discussing are in Anglo-Norman, or in Latin, for the 
reason, among others, that in the thirteenth century, at least, 
written English was not much employed for any purpose ; and 
as there was at that epoch no people, in the modern social sense 
of that word, there existed no native public interested in 
political affairs, which could be addressed in the native tongue. \ 

At this time, the French ranked first among the literary 
languages of Europe, for it had reached a much more advanced 
stage of grammatical and rhetorical Culture than any other, 
and was, therefore, better suited, not only for poetical compo- 
sition, but for every branch of higher intellectual effort. Its 
superiority for literary purposes was felt and admitted, even in 
states where the influence of France in political matters was 
far from gre?vt ; and French acquired, in the thirteenth century, 
that widely diffused currency, as a generally known and there- 
fore convenient common medium of communication, which it 
has ever since maintained throughout Continental Europe. 
Martino de Canale, a Venetian annalist of the thirteenth 
century, composed his chronicle in French, because, to use his 
own words : ' the French tongue is current throughout the 
world, and is more delectable to read and to hear than any 
other.' * Brunetto Latini, the teacher of Dante, wrote his most 
important work in the same language, and he thus apologizes 
for using it instead of Italian : ' If any shall ask why this book 
is written in Romance, according to the patois of France, I 
being born Italian, I will say it is for divers reasons. The one 
is that I am now in France, the other is, that French is the 
most delightsome of tongues, and partaketh most of the com- 
mon nature of all other languages.'! 

The employment of French by native English authors is by 

^ Ystoire de li Normanz. Introduction, xciy. 

t Et se aucuns demandoit per coi cest liures est escrit en romas selonc le pacoys 

R 2 



244 USE OF FEENCn IN ENGLAND Lect. V 

no means to be ascribed wholly to the predominance of Norman 
influence in England, but, in a considerable degree, to the fact 
that, for the time, it occupied much the same position which 
had hitherto been awarded to the Latin, as the common dialect 
of learned Christendom. This fact has been too generally over- 
looked by literary historians, and consequently too much weight 
has been ascribed to political and social causes, in accounting for the 
frequent use of French by English writers, when, in truth, its em- 
ployment was very much owing to purely literary considerations. 

Many of the poems on English political affairs were the work 
of native Norman, not English writers, though English subjects, 
and some were written even in Provenpal. 

As has been already observed, a great variety of metres are 
employed in these poems ; but most of the English, though 
rhymed, and resembling Eomance poetry in structure, retain 
the ancient national characteristic of alliteration, and thus 
combine the two systems, as they do the vocabularies, of both 
languages. Others again are partly in English, partly in French, 
thus showing that those for whom they were written were 
equally familiar with both languages. Thus a poem of the year 
1311, upon the violation of the provisions of Magna Charta, so 
often confirmed and so often broken by English kings, com- 
mences with a stanza in the two languages. 

L'en puet fere et defere, 

Ceo fait-il trop sovent ; 
It nis nouther wel ne faire ; 

Therfore Engelond is shent. 

de france, puis que bos comesames ytalliens ie diroie que ee est por diuerses 
raisons. Tune q nos somes en france et I'autre por ce q la parleurc est plus 
delitable et plus comune a tons lengages. 

Manuscript of the Library of the TJniversity of Turin, Cod. L. II. 18. 
The form pacoys, generally written patois, is remarkable, but I know not how 
far it is justified by other ancient authorities. Diez supposes patois to be 
an imitative word, and cites the Ilennegau provincial pati-pata, geschnatter, 
chattering, as analogous. 

Although we cannot be certain as to the precise definition which Brunctto 
Latini would have given to jpacoy s, he apparently uses it in the sense of dialect^ 
ftnd regards the Romance as a general speech, of which French was a local form. 



Lect. V. * ENGLISH POLITICAL POEMS 245 

ISfostre prince de Engletere, 

Par le consail de sa gent, 
At Westminster after the feire 

Made a gret parlement. 
La cliartre fet de eyre, 

Jeo I'enteink et bien le crey, 
It was liolde to neih tlie fire, 

And is molten al awey. 
Ore ne say mes que dire, 

Tout i va a Tripolay, 
Hundred, chapitle, court, and shire, 

Al hit goth a devel way. 
Des plusages de la tere 

Ore escotez un sarmoun. 
Of iiij. wise-men that ther were, 

Whi Engelond is brouht adoun. 

The ferste seide, * I understonde 
Ne may no king wel ben in londe, 

Under God Almihte, 
But he cunne himself rede, 
Hou he shal in londe lede 
Everi man wid rihte. 

For might is riht, 

Liht is night. 

And fiht is fliht. 
For miht is riht, the lond is laweles ; 
For niht is liht, the lond is loreles ; 
For fiht is fliht, the lond is nameles.' 

That other seide a word ful god, 
* Whoso roweth asein the flod, 
Off sorwe he shal drinke ; 
Also hit fareth bi the unsele, 
A man shal have litel hele 
Ther agein to swinke. 
Nu on is two, 
Another is wo, 
And frend is fo. 
For on is two, that lond is streintheles ; 
For wel is wo, the lond is reutheles ; 
For frend is fo, the lond is loveles,' 



246 ENGLISH POLITICAL POEMS LecT. V, 

That tliridde seide, ' It is no wonder 
•^^ Off tliise eyres that goth under, 

Whan theih comen to londe 
Prouda^.and stoiite, and ginneth gelpe, 
Ac of thl^g that sholde helpe 
Have theih noht on honde. 
Nu lust haveth leve, 
Thef is reve, 
And pride hath sieve. 
For lust hath leve, the lond is theweles ; 
For thef is reve, the lond is penyles ; 
For pride hath sieve, the lond is almusles.' 

The fertile seide, that he is wod 
That dwelleth to niuchel in the flod, 

For gold or for auhte ; 
For gold or silver, or any wele, 
Hunger or thurst, hete or chele, 
Al shal gon to nohte. 
Nu wille is red, 
Wit is qued, 
And god is ded. 
For wille is red, the lond is wrecful ; 
For wit is qued, the lond is wrongful } 
For god is ded, the lond is sinful. 

Wid wordes as we han pleid, 
Sum wisdom we han seid 

Off olde men and pioge ; 
Off many a thinge that is in londe, 
Whoso coude it nnderstonde, 

So have I told wid tongue. 

Eiche and pore, bonde and fre, 
That love is god, je mai se ; 

Love clepeth ech man brother; 
For it that he to blame be, 
Forjif hit him par cliarite, 

Al theih he do other. 

Love we God, and he us alle, 
That was born in an oxe stalle, 



Lect. V. ENGLISH POLITICAL POEMS 247 

And for us don on rode. 
His swete lierte-blod lie let 
For us, and us faire liet >. 

That we sliolde be gode. ' - 

Be we nu gode and stedefast, 
So that we muwen at the last 

Haven hevene blisse. 
To God Almihti I preie 
Lat us never in sinne deie, 

That joye for to misse. 

Ac lene us alle so don here, 

And leve in love and god manere, 

The devel for to shende ; 
That we moten alle i-fere 
Sen him that us bouhte dere, 

In joye withoute ende. Amen. 

The authors of some of these songs might even boast with 
Dante: Locutns sum in lingua trina; for occasionally French, 
Latin and English are intermixed, as in the following poem, of 
the early part of the reign of Edward II., also contained in the 
Political Songs published by the Camden Society. 

Quant honme deit parleir, videat quaj verba loquatur ; 

Sen covent aver, ne stultior inveniatur. 

Quando quis loquitur, bote resoun reste therynne, 

Derisum patitur, ant lutel so shal he wynne. 

En seynt eglise sunt multi S£epe priores ; 

Summe beoth wyse, multi sunt inferiores. 

When mon may mest do, tunc velle suum manu'estat, 

In donis also, si vult tibi prasmia prsestat. 

Ingrato benefac, post haec a peyne te verra ; 

Pur bon vin tibi lac non dat, nee rem tibi rendra. 

Sensum custodi, quasi mieu valt sen qe ta mesoun ; 

Thah thou be mody, robur nichil est sine resoun. 

Lex lyth doun over al, faUax fraus fallit ubique ; 

Ant love nys bote smal, quia gens se gestat inique. 

Wo walketh wyde, quoniam movet ira potentes : 

Ryht con nout ryde, quia vadit ad insipientes. 



248 ENGLISH POLITICAL POEMS LecT. V. 

Dummodo fraiis siiperest, lex nid noiit lonen y londe ; 

Et quia, sic res est, ryth may nout radlyclie stonde. 

Fals mon fi^^ynt covenaiint, quamvis tibi dicat, * habebis.* 

Vix dabit tiri^yea gaunt, lene les mon postea flebis. 

Myn ant tliyn duo sunt, qui frangunt plebis amorem ; 

Ce deus pur nus sunt facienda saepe dolorem. 

Tresoun dampnificat, et paucis est data resoun ; 

Eesoun certificat, confundit et omnia tresoun. 

Pees may nout wel be, dum stat per nomina bina ; 

Lord Crist, that thou se, per te hit in hiis medicina I 

Infirmus moritur, thah lechcraft ligge bysyde ; 

Vivus decipitur, nis non that her shal abyde 

Tels phisours troverez, qui de te plurima prendrount ; 

Au dreyn bien verrez, quod nullam rem tibi rendrount. 

Esto pacificus, so myh thou welde thy wylle ; 

Also veridicus, ant stond pro tempore stille. 

Pees seit en tere, per te, Deus, alma potestas ! 

Defendez guere, ne nos invadat egestas. 

God Lord Almyhty, da pacem, Christe benigne ! 

Thou const al dyhty, fac ne pereamus in igne ! 

This confusion of tongues led very naturally to the corruption 
of them all, and consequently none of them were written or 
spoken as correctly as at the period when they were kept distinct. 
In short, the grammar of both English and Anglo-Norman 
became more and more irregular, as French and Latin became 
more familiar to the English people. The Anglo-Norman, as 
it was observed in the last lecture, departed from the Norman- 
French inflections, and Anglo-Latin became almost as macaronic 
as the works of Folengo, or as the Daco-Latin of Wallachia, 
where the traveller Walsh says, that he was waked before dawn, 
by the tapster of a humble inn, who was standing over him 
with brandy-bottle and glass, and offering him a morning 
draught, with the classic salutation : ' Visne schnapps, 
Domine ? ' 

In fact, a macaronic stage seems very often to mark the 
decline of an old literature and language, in countries exposed 



Lect. V. MIXTURE OF LANGUAaES 249 

to powerful foreign influences. We find examples of Latinisms 
in Byzantine Grreek, and of Hellenisms in the decay of classic 
Latin. Ausonius — not the last lawyer who has exchanged the 
bar for the chair — introduces Grreek vocables into his verses, 
and, in his twelfth epistle, after saying, in hybrid words, that he 
has wasted time enough in arguing causes in the Common Pleas 
and in Bank, and in delivering lectures on rhetoric : 

Jam satis, oJ (piXe HavXe, ttovojv aTreTreipfjdijfxev, 
Ev re fopw causatc re Kai ingratalffi Kadedpaigj 
"PrjropiKolQ ludoiffi, &c. &c. 

he invites his friend Paulus to visit him and share with him a 
bottle of veritable Chateau Margaux, which he calls : 

vEKTap vinoto bonoio. 

The English political poem oldest in subject, if not in date, 
contained in the Camden Society's volume, is a satire upon the 
Emperor, or King of Almaigne. It is as follows : — 

SONa AGAINST THE KING OF ALMAIGNE. 
[MS. Harl. No. 2253, Eol. 58yo, of the reign of Edward II.] 

Sittetli alle stille ant herkneth to me : 
The Kyn of Alemaigne, bi mi leaiite, 
Thritti thousent pound askede he 
For te make the pees in the countre, 
ant so he dude more. 
Eichard, thah thou be ever trichard, 
trichen shalt thou never more. 

Eichard of Alemaigne, whil that he wes kyng, 
****** 

Haveth he nout of Walingford o ferlyng :— . 
Let him habbe, ase he brew, bale to dryng, 
maugre "Wyndesore. 
Eichard, thah thou be ever, etc. 

The Kyng of Alemaigne wende do ful wel, 
He saisede the mulne for a castel, 



250 POLITICAL SONGS Lect. V. 

With hare sharpe swerdes he grounde the stel, 
He wende that the sayles were mangonel 
to helpe Wyndesore. 
Eichard, etc. 

The Kyng of Alemaigne gederede ys host, 
Makede him a castel of a mulne post, 
Wende with is prude ant is muchele host, 
Brohte from Alemayne mony sori gost 
to store Wyndesore. 
Eichard, etc. 

By God, that is aboven ous, he dude muche synne, 
That lette passen over see the Erl of Warynne : 
He hath robbed Engelond, the mores, ant th[ej fenne, 
The gold, ant the selver, ant y-boren henne, 
for love of Wyndesore. 
Eichard, etc. 

Sire Simond de Mountfort hath swore bi ys chyn, 
Hevede he nou here the Erl of Waryn, 
Shulde he never more come to is yn, 
Ne with sheld, ne with spere, ne with other gyn, 
to help of Wyndesore. 
Eichard, etc. 

Sire Simond de Montfort hath suore bi ys cop, 
Hevede he nou here Sire Hue de Bigot, 
Al he shulde quite here twelfmoneth scot, 
Shulde he never more with his fot pot 
to helpe Wyndesore. 
Eichard, etc. 

Be the luef, be the loht, sire Edward, 
Thou shalt ride sporeles o thy lyard 
Al the ryhte way to Dovere ward ; 
Shalt thou never more breke fore -ward, 
ant that reweth sore : 
Edward, thou dudest ase a shreward, 

forsoke thyn emes lore. 
Eichard, etc. 

Early English satirists by no means confined themselves to 
censuring political abuses, and in their complaints of the cor- 



Lect. V. POLITICAL SONGS 251 

ruption of the Churcli they show a boldness worthy of the 
Tuartyr age of the Eeformation. The Latin poems of this class 
are particularly severe, and they are often written in a tone of 
mournful seriousness, which is not likely to have been employed 
except by ecclesiastics who deeply felt the degradation to which 
their profession was reduced, by the depravity of the higher 
classes of the clergy. Some of the English songs on this 
subject are full of curious information both on the relations 
between the clergy and the laity, and on the habitual modes of 
life of the middling and lower classes of the people. The 
following is the commencement of a long poem, contained in 
the volume I have so often referred to. 

"Whii werre and wrake in londe and manslaulit is i-come, 
Whii hungger and derthe on eorthe the pore hath undernome, 
Whii bestes ben thus storve, whii corn hath ben so dere, 
je that wolen abide, listneth and ge niuwen here 

the skile. 
I neUe lijen for no man, herkne who so wile. 

God greteth wel the clergie, and seith theih don amis, 
And doth hem to understonde that litel treuthe ther is ; 
For at the court of Rome, ther treuthe sholde biginne, 
Him is forboden the paleis, dar he noht com therinne 

for doute ; 
And thouh the pope clepe him in, ^it shal he stonde theroute, 

Alle the popes clerkes han taken hem to red, 
If treuthe come amonges hem, that he shal be ded. 
There dar he noht shewen him for doute to be slain, 
Among none of the cardinaus dar he noht be sein, 

for feerd. 
If Symonie may mete wid him he wole shaken his herd. 

Voiz of clerk is sielde i-herd at the court of Rome ; 
Ne were he nevere swich a clerk, silverles if he come, 
Thouh he were the wiseste that evere was i-born, 
But if he swete ar he go, al his weye is lorn 

i-souht. 
Or he shal singe si dederOy or al geineth him noht. 



252 POLITICAL SONGS Lect. V. 

For if there be in countre an Loreling, a slirewe, 

Lat him come to the court hise nedes for to shewe, 

And bringe wid him silver and non other wed, 

Be he nevere so muchel a wrecche, hise nedes sholen be spede 

ful stille, 
For Coveytise and Symonie han the world to wille. 

And erchebishop and bishop, that ouhte for to enquere 
Off ale men of holi churche of what lif theih were, 
Summe beth foles hemself, and leden a sory lif, 
Therfore doren hii noht speke for rising of strif 

thurw clerkes, 
And that everich biwi'eied other of here wrecchede werkes. 

But certes holi churche is muchel i-brouht ther doune, 
Siththen Seint Thomas was slain and smiten of his croune. 
He was a piler ariht to holden up holi churche, 
Thise othere ben to slouwe, and feinteliche kunnen worche, 

i-wis ; 
Therfore in holi churche hit fareth the more amis. 

But everi man may wel i-wite, who so take 3eme, 
That no man may wel serve tweie lordes to queme. 
Summe beth in ofice wid the king, and gaderen tresor to hepe, 
And the fraunchise of holi churche hii laten ligge slepe 

ful stille ; 
Al to manye ther beth swiche, if hit were Godes wille. 

The feeling of conscious national life, which had been 
awakened by the Barons' Wars, seems to have been much less 
freely manifested in the early part of the fourteenth century, 
and in fact to have become almost dormant, for a considerable 
time before the French wars of Edward III. roused it again to 
a long and vigorous activity. The volumes of political poems 
of the reign of Edward III., which form a part of the series 
of Chronicles and Memorials of Grreat Britain and Ireland, do 
not contain a single English song older than those of Lawrence 
Minot, which were written after the year 1350. 

The various collections of poetry belonging to the first age 
of English literature, which the philological zeal of scholars 



Lect. V. LTKIC POETRY 253 

has lately given to the world, contain many descriptive, amatory, 
and religious songs of no inconsiderable merit. I select the 
following from the Specimens of Lyric Poetry composed in 
England in the reign of Edward I., published by the Percy 

Society. 

"With longyng y am lad, 
On molde y waxe mad, 

a maide raarreth me; 
Y grede, y grone, un-glad, 
For selden y am sad 

that semly forte se; 

levedi, thou rewe me, 
To routhe thou havest me rad ; 
Be bote of that y bad-, 

My lyf is long on the. 

Levedy, of alle londe 
Les me out of bonde, 

broht icham in wo. 
Have resting on honde, 
Ant sent thou me thi sonde, 

sone, or thou me slo ; 

my reste is with the ro : 
Thah men to me han onde, 
To love nuly noht wonde, " 

ne lete for non of tho. 

Levedi, with al my miht 
My love is on the liht, 

to menske when y may ; 
Thou rew ant red me ryht. 
To dethe thou havest me diht, 

y dege longe er my day ; 

thou leve upon mi lay. 
Treuthe ichave the plyht, 
To don that ich have hyht, 

whil mi hf leste may. 

Lylie-whyt hue is. 
Hire rode so rose on rys, 
that rcveth me mi rest. 



254 LYRIC POETRY Lect. V. 

Wymmon war ant wys, 

Of prude hue beretli the pris, 

burde on of the best ; 

this wommon woneth by west, 
Brihtest under bys, 
Hevene y tolde al his 

That o nyht were hire gest. 

Lenten ys come with love to toune, 
With blosmen ant with briddes roune, 

that al this blisse bryngeth; 
Dayes-e^es in this dales, 
Notes suete of nyhtegales, 

uch foul song singeth. 
The threstelcoc him threteth oo, 
A- way is huere wynter wo, 

when woderove springeth; 
This foules singeth ferly fele. 
Ant wlyteth on huere wynter wele, 

that al the wode ryngeth. 

The rose rayleth hire rode, 
The leves on the lythe wode 

waxen al with wille ; 
The mone mandeth hire bleo, 
The lilie is lossom to seo, 

the fenyl ant the fille ; 
Wowes this wilde drakes. 
Miles murgeth huere makes, 

ase strem that striketh stille; 
Mody meneth, so doh mo, 
Ichot yeham on of tho, 

for love that likes ille. 

The mone mandeth hire lyht, 
So doth the semly sonne bryht, 

when briddes singeth breme ; 
Deowes donketh the dounes, 
Deores with huere derne rounes, 

domes forte deme ; 
Wormes woweth under cloude, 
Wymmen waxeth wounder proude. 



i 



I<aCT. V- LIEIC POETRY 255 

so well hit wol liem seme, 
jef me shal wonte wille of on, 
This wtmne weole y wole for-gon, 

ant "vvyht in wode be Heme. 



"Wynter wakeneth al my care, 
Nou this leves waxeth bare, 
Ofte J sike ant mourne sare, 

When hit cometh in my thoht 

Of this worldes joie, hou hit goth al to noht. 

Now hit is, ant now hit nys, 

Also hit ner nere y-wys, 

That moni mon seith soth his ys, 

Al goth bote Godes wille. 

Alle we shiile deye, thath us like ylle. 

Al that gren me graueth grene, 
Non hit faleweth al by-dene ; 
Jhesu, help that hit be sene, 

And shild lis from helle, 

For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duelle. 



Jesc, for thi muchele miht, 

thou jef us of thi grace. 
That we mowe dai ant nyht 

thenken o thi face. 
In myn herte hit doth me god. 
When y thenke on Jesu blod, 

that ran doun bi ys syde. 
From his herte doun to his fot, 
For ous he spradde is herte blod, 

his wondes were so wyde. 

When y thenke on Jhesu dei, 
min herte over-werpes, 

Mi soule is won so is the led 
for my fole werkes. 

Ful wo is that iJke mon, 

That Jhesu ded ne thenkes on, 



256 LYRIC POETET Lect. V. 

what lie soffrede so sore I 
For my synnes j wil wete, 
Ant alle j •vvyle hem for-let€ 

nou ant evermore. 

Mon that is in joie ant blis, 

ant lith in shame ant synne, 
He is more then un-wis 

that ther-of nul nout blynne. 
Al this world hit geth a-way, 
Me thynketh hit nejyth domesday, 

non man gos to ground e ; 
Jhesu Crist that tholede ded, 
He may onre soules to hevene led, 

withinne a Intel stonnde. 

Thah thou have al thi wille, 

thenk on Godes wondes, 
For that we ne shulde spille, 

he tholede harde stoundes ; 
Al for mon he tholede ded, 
gyf he wyle leve on is red, 

ant leve his folie, 
"We shule have joie ant blis, 
More than we conne seien y-wyg 

in Jesu compagnie. 

Jhesu, that wes milde ant fre, 

wes with spere y-stonge ; 
He was nailed to the tre, 

with scourges y-swongen. 
Al for mon he tholede shame, 
Withouten gult, withouten blame, 

bothe day ant other. 
Mon, ful muchel he lovede the^ 
When he Avolde make the fire, 

ant bicome thi brother. 



Lect. V. INFLECTIONAL CHANGES 257 



NOTE ON INFLECTIONAL AND GRAMMATICAL CHANGES. 

The origin of changes in inflection can very seldom be traced, because 
they originate in popular speech, and are not adopted by the written 
tongue until the mode and occasion of their introduction is forgotten ; 
but in cases where the native has been brought into contact with a 
foreign language, we can often see how a new tendency might have 
been created, or an existing one strengthened, towards a revolution in 
a particular direction. Let us take the case of the old verbal plural in 
-en.' The Anglo-Saxon plural indicative present, as we have already 
seen, ended in tli, so that instead of we love, or we \oxen^ the Saxons 
said we lufiaf A, with the same consonantal ending as in the singular, 
he \ui-ath. The past tense of the indicative, as we Ixii-odon, we 
loved, and of both tenses of the subjunctive, as we luf-zow, that we 
may love, we \\x.i-odon, that ive might love, always ended in -on. 
But though the present indicative plural of all regular verbs ended in 
th, all the semi-auxiliaries, except willan, to will, made the plural in 
on, and the Anglo-Saxons said we willath, ive ivill, but, at the 
same time, we scealon, we magOTi, we cunnon, we motow, for 
ive shall, we may, we can, we must. 

The Norm-an-French, like modern French, made the first person 
plural, in all cases, in ons- — the s being probably silent as it now is — 
and said nous aim ons, we love. This termination, though a nasal, 
bore a considerable resemblance to the Saxon plural in o n. There was, 
then, a common point in which the two languages concurred. The 
Frenchman could not pronounce the th, and as the two nations had 
agreed to adopt s, the nearest approximation a Norman could make to 
the sound of th, as the sign of the third person singular of the verb, 
it was very natural that they should employ the sign on, which was 
common to both, as the sign of the plural. 

The Saxon ending on was not accented, and the vowel was pro- 
bably somewhat obscurely articulated, like the e, in the modern termi- 
nation en, in the verb harden and others of that ending. These cir- 
cumstances tend to explain why we find the plural of the indicative 
present in the Ormulum with the ending in en instead of th. This 
soon became the regular form in English, and this was the first step of 
progress to the modern dialect, in which we have dropped the plural 
ending altogether, giving it, in all the persons, the same form as the 
first person singular. Thus we say, I love, and we love, you love, they 

S 



258 INFLECTIONAL CHANGES Lect. V. 

love, while early English -writers said : I love^ but we loven, you loven^ 
they loven. 

In modern French, and there is every reason to believe in Old 
Norman-French also, the three persons of the singular and the third 
person of the plural of the verb, though the latter has an additional 
syllable in writing, are pronounced alike, the terminal syllable being 
silent in speech 5 for the plural aim en t is pronounced aime, just 
like the singular, aime. Of the six persons, singular and plural, the 
French pronounce four alike, rejecting the plural ending cnt alto- 
gether, and this fact probably contributed to facilitate the dropping 
of the new English plural ending in en, which did not long remain in 
use. 

Another new form of expression first exemplified, so far as I know, 
in the thirteenth century, is the use of the plural pronoun instead of 
the singular, in addressing a single person. I do not observe this tise 
of the pronoun in contemporaneous French, nor in any of the Northern 
Gothic languages, but it was already common in Dutch, and it is pos- 
sible that the English borrowed it from that source. Not many English 
words or forms are derived from the Dutch, but Chaucer quotes a 
Flemish proverb, and one of the words occurring in it, quad or qued, 
bad, evil, is found in the Owl and Nightingale, the Surtees Psalter, as 
well as in other early English writers. Bidine, too, common in old 
ballads, occurs in the Surtees Psalter.* These words are not Anglo- 
Saxon, and as they were probably taken from the Dutch, other words 
and forms may have been received from the same language. 

But though the plural pronoun was thus early applied to single per- 
sons, the complete separation of the two, and the confinement of the 
singular tliou to the religious dialect, are very much later. They seem 
to have been employed indiscriminately for several centuries, and in 
the Morte d' Arthur, printed in 1485, tliou and you, thy and your are 
constantly occurring in the same sentence, and addressed to one and 
the same person. 

* Huydecoper, in his Breedere aantelcenmgen op Melis Stoke, I., 227, examines 
the etymology of bide en at considerable length. It is a compound of the 
particle by and the demonstrative pronoun: by dien, the primitive meaning 
being, thereby, thereupon, and hence, immediately. 



LECTUEE YI. 

COMMENCEMENT OF SECOND PEEIOD : FROM 1350 TO THE 
TIME OF THE AUTHOR OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN. 

We are now to enter on a new philological and literary era, an 
era in which English genius first acquired a self-conscious in- 
dividuality, and the English language and its literature dis- 
entangled themselves from the confusion in which the conflict- 
ing authority of Saxon precedent and French example had 
involved them. In this second period, the speech of England 
became, no longer an iU-assorted mixture of discordant in- 
gredients, but an organic combination of well assimilated, though 
heterogeneous elements, animated by a law of life, and endowed 
with a vigour of constitution which has given it a luxuriant 
youth and a healthful manhood, and still promises it a length 
of days as great, an expansion as wide, as have fallen to the 
lot of any of the tongues of man. 

Considering English, then, as primarily and radically a Gothic 
speech, invested with a new aspect, and inspired with a new 
life by Eomance influences — just as animals are so modified, 
in habits, instincts, size and specific characteristics, by changes 
of nutriment, climate, and other outward circumstances, that 
the unscientific observer hesitates to recognise them as still 
belonging to the primitive stock — let us inquire for a moment 
into the nature of the action by which external forces could 
produce such important revolutions. 

There are two principal modes in which foreign conquest 
and foreign influence affect language. The first and most 

6 2 



260 VOCABULARY OF OLD ENGLISH Lect. VI. 

obvious is, by tbe introduction of foreign words, idioms, and 
grammatical forms, wbich may be carried far without any very 
appreciable effect upon tlie radical character ' of the language, 
or upon the spirit of the people who use it. The other is 
the more slowly and obscurely manifested action of new insti- 
tutions, laws, and opinions upon the intellectual constitution 
and habits of thought of the people, and, indirectly, upon the 
logical structure of the language as the vehicle of the expres- 
sion of the national mind and character. 

We should suppose, a priori, that the first influence of a 
cultivated language, employed by a conquering people, upon 
the less advanced speech of a ruder subject race, would be to 
denationalize its vocabulary by the introduction of a large 
number of foreign words, and that S3nitactical changes would 
be slower in finding their way into the grammar ; but the 
history of the modern languages known in literature seems to 
show that this is not universally the case. 

I have already mentioned the curious inversion of periodic 
arrangement which the Turkish has produced in the modern 
Armenian, without much affecting the vocabulary ; and I have 
given reasons for believing that both Moeso-Gothic and Anglo- 
Saxon were influenced, in certain points of their grammar, by 
Grreek and Latin syntax. The Grothic languages, which seem 
to have modified the structure of the Eomance dialects, have not 
bestowed upon them any very large proportion of Northern 
words ; and though the syntax of the native speech of England 
underwent important changes between the Norman Conquest and 
the close of the period we have just dismissed, yet the number of 
Romance words which had been naturalized in England was, thus 
far, by no means considerable. As has been before observed, the 
whole number of Grreek, Latin, and French words found in the 
printed English authors of the thirteenth century, even in- 
cluding those which Anglo-Saxon had borrowed from the 
nomenclature of theology and ethics, scarcely exceeds one 



Lect. VI. NEW NATIONALITY 261 

thousand, or one eigBtti part of the total vocabulary of that 
era; and in the actual diction of any one English writer of 
the period in question, not above one word in twenty or twenty- 
five is of Latin or Eomance derivation. 

But while these influences were so slow and so gradual in 
their operation on the lexical character of English, moral causes 
were at work, which, at the critical moment, gave new energy to 
the assimilative power of the English tongue, and when the 
craving for a more generous intellectual diet was distinctly felt, 
and larger facilities were demanded, English suddenly enriched 
itself by a great accession of Latin and Eomance words. It is a 
remarkable fact, as we shall see more fully hereafter, that at the 
very moment when it was naturalizing this foreign element with 
the greatest rapidity, it asserted most energetically its gram- 
matical independence, and manifested a tendency to the 
revival of Anglo-Saxon syntactical forms which had become 
well-nigh obsolete. 

Hitherto, change had been principally in the way of disor- 
ganization, decomposition, but when the inhabitants of England 
no longer consisted of a corporation of foreign lords and a herd 
of aboriginal serfs, when a community of interest had grown up 
between the native and the stranger, and mutual sympathies 
were born, then a new, heroic and genial nationality sprang into 
being, revived the sparks that yet slumbered in the ashes of 
departed Saxondom, and fed them with a fuel borrowed alike 
from the half-forgotten stores of native growth and from the 
more abundant products of sunny and luxuriant France. 

Eomance words and forms had been imposed by foreign 
authority upon a reluctant and unreceptive speech, the sufficient 
medium of communication for a people too rude and unculti- 
vated to feel its own debasement, and to know the extent of its 
own intellectual deficiencies ; but when revived, or rather new- 
born, England awakened to a consciousness of the wants which 
make themselves so imperiously felt, whenever a new national 



262 POPULAR LITEKATUEE Lect. VI. 

life is developed, it proceeded to supply those wants by the sum- 
mariest methods, from all accessible sources. 

Thenceforward, to use the comparison of St. Jerome, it seized 
and appropriated foreign words as a conqueror, — no longer un- 
willingly received and bore than as a badge of servitude to an 
alien yoke. 

English, as distinguished from Anglo-Saxon, thus far can 
hardly be said to have gained other than a negative existence, 
for it had lost the formal characteristics of the old speech, and 
had not yet acquired the shape or spirit of the new. The 
spoken and written dialect was but a corrupted a.nd denaturalized 
jargon, or rather congeries of jargons, for every district had its 
local patois which was broadly distinguished from the speech of 
other shires. The necessities of social and political life, indeed, 
compelled the occasional employment of these native dialects in 
written communication, by persons whose scholastic training- 
was Latin or French; but until the close of the thirteenth 
century, there was no indigenous public which possessed a 
written vernacular, to any such extent as to be accessible to 
literary influences. For all the purposes of common national 
culture, therefore, English may be regarded as still un- 
written. 

I have before remarked that the popular ballads, v/hich ex- 
isted in local dialects, did not constitute a literature, and that 
England had no peculiar literature of her own till after the 
middle of the fourteenth century. The mass of those who 
spoke the native tongue, of those who listened to, and even 
those who composed, the popular ballads, were, in all proba- 
bility, wholly ignorant of letters, and for them English existed 
only as a spoken language. The traditions and the legends, 
the ballads and the w^ar-songs, which float from mouth to 
mouth, in any unwritten speech, cannot constitute a literature, 
for they cannot exist in fixed and permanent forms. In the 
retentive memory of the humblest class of bards and narrators. 



Lect. VI. POPULAR LITEIUTURE 263 

they may dwell and be repeated for years with little change of 
form or substance. But most of the poetical reciters and saga- 
men are themselves creators, and if memory chance to fail, or 
if a finer ear or a more imaginative temperament suggest 
improvements in the ballad or the story they recite, they will 
not scruple to make verbal or inventive changes. Hence every 
bard is continually moulding and remoulding his lays into 
accordance with his habitual tastes and sentiments, or with the 
changeful temper which the humour of the moment may 
inspire. The leading facts, the raw material, may remain the 
same, but the poem or the saga, so long as it is unrecorded, will 
continually appear and reappear in a new dress, a new phraseo- 
logy, and often in a new predominant strain of imagery, of 
thought or of sentiment. 

Now, constant peculiarities of verbal combination, of prevalent 
tone, and especially of the aspect in which the relations between 
man and man, and man and nature, are viewed, constitute the 
characteristic and essence of every primitive national literature, 
and difference the imaginative creations of one nascent people 
from those of another. They are at once the flesh that clothes, 
and the organic principle that animates and individualises the 
intellectual products of all uncultivated races. In partially civi- 
lized nations, living under similar climatic and other physical 
conditions, the subjects will be alike, the leading facts of life 
nearly identical ; but it is the point of view from which facts 
are regarded, the embellishments of fancy with which they 
are decorated, that characterize and distinguish the national 
treatment of them, or, in other words, the national literature, 
in ruder periods of associate life. 

The poems and tales of primitive ages turn mainly on the 
material interests of men, though the events which act upon 
those interests may be occasioned by moral affections, passions, 
or emotions. The moral judgment on facts, and even the 
exhibition of their moral results, the discussion of their bearing 



264 ENLAKGEMENT OP VOCABULARY Lect. VL 

on tlie interests of society, belong to later ages, and to an 
entirely different phase of literature.* 

Until the intellectual productions of rude eras are recorded, 
and preserved in permanent memorials, so as to afford oppor- 
tunities for study, comparison, imitation, they will be individual 
in the moral and the imaginative element that enters into them ; 
and while they bear the general likeness which beloogs to all 
the productions of uncultivated races, differenced only by the 
special character of each writer, they will not be marked by the 
finer analogies, the subtler contrasts, and the nicer shades of 
colour, which are the result of artificial culture, and which be- 
come, when made in a certain degree uniform and permanent, 
the characteristics of national genius. 

The birth or revival of a truly national and peculiar literature 
is generally contemporaneous with an enlargement of the voca- 
bulary, by foreign importation, or by the resuscitation of obsolete 
words of native growth. It is not always easy to say whether 
this extension of the means of expression is the cause or the 
consequence of the conception and familiarization of new ideas ; 
but, in any event, new thoughts and new words are necessarily 
connected, if not twin-born. Hence the awakening of a new 
spirit of nationality — which was a result of the French and 
Scotch wars of Edward III. — the enlargement of the English 
vocabulary, and the impulse to the creation of an original 
English literature, were nearly simultaneous. English scholars, 
though trained as all educated Englishmen thus far had been, 

* In the Icelandic sagas, it is rare to find any condemnation of the acts of 
cruel violence in which those narratives abound, and a bloody murder is generally 
spoken ofasastorvirki, a great act. Thus in Njala, when Flosi was preparing 
to attack the sons of Njall with fire and sword, he concealed his purpose from his 
father-in-law Hallr, because he thought Hallr would letiaallra storvirkia, 
prevent all murder, Morgum J?6tti J^at storvirki, morgum j^otti hann 
harm - dau^i, it seemed to many a great act, to many his seemed a death to be 
regretted, are the strongest expressions of disapprobation commonly used on 
Buch occasions. 

It is worth noticing that, in the last example, harm-dau<5i is an adjectiye 
agreeing with the subject of the phrase. 



Lect. VI. ENLARGEMENT OF YOCABULARY 265 

m schools where only French and Latin were grammatically 
taught, had alread}^ become weary of reading even the master- 
pieces of Continental genius in a foreign garb, and the trans- 
lation of French poems into the native speech of England, 
their naturalization as English possessions, was the first naove- 
ment in the manifestation of a new literary life. 

The want of a sufficient nomenclature and the convenience 
of rh3'me and metre, as is very clearly seen in ail the older 
English versions, naturally led to the employment of many 
French words in the translations ; and in an age when Latin 
and French, or at least the latter, were quite as familiar to 
every educated man as English, a considerable proportion of 
French words might, in Englishing French poems, be intro- 
duced almost unconsciously to the translator, and without 
exciting much notice on the part of a reader. The circulation 
of translated works was no longer confined to the higher classes,' 
who hitherto had alone enjoyed any opportunities for literary 
culture. About the middle of the fourteenth century, schools 
were established in which English was both taught as itself 
an object of study, and employed as a vehicle of instruction 
in other languages and disciplines. "WHiatever existed in the 
English tongue, whether by translation or by original compo- 
sition, now became a part of the general pa>trimony of the 
English people, and there, as everjrwhere else, the learning, the 
poetr}^, the philosophy, which had been slowly gathered on the 
summits of social life, and had been the peculiar nutriment of 
favoured classes, now flowed down to a lower level, and re- 
freshed, as with the waters of a fountain of youth, the humbler 
ranks of the English people. Native poets, composing original 
works in their own tongue, w^ould naturally use the poetic 
diction in which the productions of French literature had been 
clothed in assuming an English dress ; for these were their only 
vernacular models. But English rhymers were still generally 
acquainted with French, and that language, as we have seen, 
had already attained a culture which eminently fitted it for 



266 ENLARGEMENT OF YOCABULAEY Lect. VI. 

literary purposes, and made it, as the Latin has always been, a 
storehouse of poetic wealth in words as well as in thought, and 
a convenient resource to versifiers who were in vain struggling 
to find adequate expression in the vocabulary of Saxon-English. 
The English middle classes, who were now, for the first time, 
admitted to the enjoyment of literary pleasures, accepted, as a 
consecrated speech, the dialect employed by their authors and 
translators, without inquiry into the etymology of its consti- 
tuents, and thus, in the course of one generation, a greater 
number of French words were introduced into English verse, 
and initiated as lawful members of the poetical guild, than in 
the nearly three centuries which had elapsed since the Norman 
Conquest. The foreign matter became thoroughly assimilated 
nutriment to the speech, the mind and the heart of the frag- 
mentary peoples who had now combined in an entire organized 
commonwealth, and though the newly adopted Romance words 
were not indigenous, yet they were acknowledged and felt to be 
as genuine English, as those whose descent from the Grothic 
stock was most unequivocal. 

Epictetus observes, that the sheep, though.it eats grass, pro- 
duces not hay but wool. So English writers of the fourteenth 
century, though they derived their chief intellectual food from 
the fields of Romance literature, conceived, nevertheless, original 
thoughts, imposed new shades and distinctions of meaning on 
the words they borrowed, coloured with new hues the images 
drawn from nature and the reflections prompted by the special 
forms and conditions of English life, and thus created a new 
literary substance, which soon became a distinct and indepen- 
dent individuality in the world of letters. 

It is a great, but very widely spread error, to suppose that 
the influx of French words in the fourteenth century w^as due 
alone to poetry and other branches of pure literature. The 
law, which now first became organized into a science, introduced 
very many terms borj'o wed from the nomenclature of Latin and 
French jurisprudence ; the glass-worker, the enameller, the archi- 



Lect. VI. VOCABULAET OF PEOSE 267 

tect, the brass-founder, tlie Flemish clothier, and the other handi- 
craftsmen, whom Norman taste and luxury invited, or domestic 
oppression expelled from the Continent, brought with them the 
vocabularies of their respective arts ; and Mediterranean com- 
merce — which was stimulated by the demand for English wool, 
then the finest in Europe — imported, from the harbours of a 
sea where French was the predominant language, both new 
articles of merchandize and the French designations of them. 

The sciences too, medicine, physics, geographj^, alchemy, 
astrology, all of v/hich became known to England chiefly through 
French channels, added numerous specific terms to the existing 
vocabulary, and very many of the words, first employed in 
English writings as a part of the technical phraseology of these 
various arts and knowledges, soon passed into the domain of 
common life, in modified or untechnical senses, and thus 
became incorporated into the general tongue of society and 
of books. 

The poets, so far from corrupting English by a too large 
infusion of French words, were in truth reserved in the em- 
ployment of such,. and,_ when not constrained by the necessities 
of rhyme, evidently preferred, if not a strictly Anglo-Saxon 
diction, at least a dialect composed of words which use had 
already familiarized to the English people. 

The truth of this position, which has been overlooked in the 
great mass of uncritical animadversion on the English language 
of the fourteenth century, will be at once made apparent by 
an examination of the dialect of the prose writers of that era, 
and of those poems which are addressed to the least refined 
classes, and employ the least ornate and most simple and intel- 
ligible diction. 

As this is an unfamiliar view of the subject, and as it is a 
point of interest and importance in the history of English 
philology, it may be worth while to devote a little time and 
space to the special consideration of it. Sir John Mandeville 
is generally considered the earliest prose writer of the second 



268 SIR JOHN MANDEYILLE Lect. VI. 

period of English literature and philology. Mandeville left Eng- 
land in the year 1322, and spent many years in travel, principally 
in Oriental countries. After his return to his native land, he 
drew up, in the year 1356, an account of his observations, in 
Latin, and, to use his own words, ' put this boke out of Latyn 
into Frensche, and translated it agen out of Frensche into 
Englyssche, that every man of my Nacioun may under- 
stande it.' * 

The manuscripts of Mandeville, in the three languages in 
which his travels appeared, are so numerous that Halliwell 
says : ' I will undertake to say that, of no book, with the excep- 
tion of the Scriptures, can more manuscripts be found, of the 
end of the fourteenth and beginning of the fifteenth centuries,' 
and there are no less than nineteen copies in the British 
Museum alone. Six of these are in English, and there are few 
great public or private libraries in England which do not con- 
tain one or more manuscripts of this author, in the vernacular 
tongue. This fact proves a very wide circulation of the book, 
and of course that its dialect was readily intelligible to the great 
mass of English-speaking people. Although the style and 
grammatical structure of Mandeville are idiomatic, yet the pro- 
portion of words of Latin and French origin employed by him, 
in his straightforward, unpoetical, and unadorned narrative, is 

* Careless readers of Mandeville have often understood him as representing 
that he spent the interval between 1322 and 1356 abroad. But this he does not 
say. After stating, p. 315 of the reprint of 1839, that he ' departed from oure 
Contrees and passed the See, the Zeer of Grace 1322,' he adds, 'now I am 
comen horn (mawgree my self) to reste ; for Gowtes, Artetykes, that me distrey- 
nen, tho diffynen the ende of my labour, azenst my wille (God knowethe). And 
thus takyngp. Solace in ray wrecched reste, reeordynge the tyme passed, I have 
fulfilled theise thinges and putte hem wryten in this boke, as it wolde come in to 
my mynde, the Zeer of Grace 1356 in the 34 Zeer that I departede from oure 
Contrees.' 

If Mandeville had not spent a considerable time in England after his retiirn, 
and before writing his travels, it is quite impossible that his English should ha^'e 
been so idiomatic. An absence of thirty-four years, at a period when the English 
language was in so unstable a state, would have left him far behind the actual 
condition of the speech at his return. 



Lect. VI. SIE JOHN MANDEYILLE 269 

greater than that found in the works of Langlande, Chaucer, 
Grower, or any other English poet of that century. In the 
Prologue, which, besides proper names and Latin quotations, 
contains something less than twelve hundred words, more than 
one hundred and thirty, or eleven per cent., are of Latin or 
French origin, and of these, the following thirty are new to 
Eoglish, or at least not found in the printed literature 
of the preceding century: — assembly, because, comprehend, 
conquer, certain, environ, excellent, former (noun), frailty, 
glorious, glory, inflame, inumber (inumbrate), moisten, nation, 
people, philosopher, plainly, proclaim, promise, pronounce, 
province, publish, reconcile, redress, subject, temporal, translate, 
trespasser, visit. The new words are relatively more numerous 
in the Prologue than in the rest of the work, but the Latin and 
EomaDce are not in larger proportion than in the narrative 
generally. I find, however, in chapters i., ii., iii., xxi., xxii., 
the following words of that character, which are not in 
Coleridge's Grlossarial Index: — abstain, abundant, ambassador, 
anoint, apparel, appear, appraize, array, attendance, benefice, 
benignly, bestial, calculation, cause, chaplet, cherish, circum- 
cision, claim, clarte (light), command (verb), comparison, con- 
tinually, contrarious, contrary, convenient, convert, corner, 
cover (in the present sense), cruelty, cubit, curiously, date, 
defend (forbid), degree, deny, deprive, desert (waste), devoutly, 
diaper, discordant, discover, disfigured, dispend, dissever, diver- 
sity, duchy, enemy, enforce, engender, estate, estimation, ex- 
amine, faithfully, fertre (a litter, Lat. feretrum), fiercely, 
fornication, foundation, generation, governance, gum, idol, 
immortal, imprint, incline, inspiration, join, joncs (rushes), 
letters (alphabetic characters), lineage, marquis, menace, 
minstrelsy, money, monster, mortal, multitude, necessary, 
obedient, obeissant, obstacle, officer, opinion, ordinance, ordi- 
nately, orient, ostrich, outrageously, paper, pasture, pearl, perch 
(a pole), perfectly, profitable, promise (noun), proper (own), 
province, purple, quantity, rebellion, receive, region, relation. 



270 SIR JOHN MAKDEVILLE Lect. VI. 

religious, return, reverend, royally, royalty, rudely, sacrament, 
science, search, scripture, servitor, signification, simony, soldier, 
solemn, specialty, spiritual, stranger, subjection, superscription, 
table, temporal, testament, throne (verb), tissue, title (in- 
scription), title (right), unction, usury, value, vary, vaulted, 
vessel, vicar, victory, vulture ; one hundred and forty-four in all. 
We find, then, in the Prologue and these five chapters, which 
make about an eighth of the volume, one hundred and seventy- 
four Latin and Eomance words, not met with in the printed 
literature of the thirteenth century. If we suppose the re- 
mainder of the book to contain as many in proportion, we 
should have, in a single work of one writer, an addition of 
about fourteen hundred words of the Latin stock to the voca- 
bulary of the previous century. It is indeed probable that the 
unexamined chapters of Mandeville might yield fewer new 
words, but as other authors of the first half of the fourteenth 
century contain many vocables not found in that writer, we 
are certainly safe in saying that between 1300 and 1350 as 
many Latin and French words were introduced into the English 
language as in the whole period of more than two centuries 
which had elapsed between the Conquest and the beginning of 
the fourteenth century. 

It was, then, the common necessities of the people, the 
essential deficiencies of the remnant of Anglo-Saxon, which 
now constituted the vernacular of England — and which, in its 
debased estate, had lost its character of a flexible, an expressive 
and a multifarious speech — that occasioned the incorporation of 
so many Eomance words into the English language ; and poetry 
is guiltless of the charge of having corrupted the simplicity and 
purity of the native tongue. 

The English of Mandeville, with few exceptions, belongs to a 
more advanced stage of progress than that of Eobert of Grlou- 
cester, and the proportion of Eomance words in the English 
vocabulary seems to have been suddenly increased in our 
author's time, and in all probability more by the popularity of 



Lect. VL sir JOHN MANDEYILLE 271 

his works, than by the influence of any other writer of that 
century. 

Although the dialect of Mandeville exhibits the language, 
upon the whole, in a more developed phase than the works of any 
preceding author, there is otherwise nothing in his volume 
which marks him as an Englishman. It is purely a record of 
observations, and a detail of information gathered from other 
sources. It possesses no national tone of colouring, and the 
Latin and French texts might equally well have been written 
by a subject of the French or of the English crown. The 
immense popularity of Mandeville, and the influence his 
writings probably produced upon the language, justify me in 
giving fuller extracts from his travels than can be afforded for 
authors whose philological importance is less, though their 
literary merits may be greater. 

THE PEOLOGUE. 

For als moche as the Lond bezonde the See, that is to seye, the 
Holy Lond, that Men callen the Lond of Promyssioun, or of Beheste, 
passynge alle othere Londes, is the most worthi Lond, most excellent, 
and Lady and Soverejai of alle othere Londes, and is blessed and hal- 
ewed of the precyous Body and Blood of onre Lord Jesu Crist ; in the 
whiclie Lond it lykede him to take Flesche and Blood of the Yirgyne 
Marie, to envyrone that holy Lond with his blessede Feet ; and there 
he wolde of his blessednesse enonmbre him in the seyd blessed and 
gloriouse Virgine Marie, and become Man, and worche many Myracles, 
and preche and teche the Feythe and the Lawe of Cristene Men unto 
his Children ; and there it lykede him to sufFre many Eeprevinges and 
Scornes for ns ^ and he that was Kyng of Hevene, of Eyr, of Erthe, of 
See and of alle thinges that ben conteyned in hem, wolde alle only ben 
cleped Kyng of that Lond, whan he seyde, Bex sum Judeorum, that is 
to seyne, I am Kyng of Jeioes ; and that Lond he chees before alle other 
Londes, as the beste and most worthi Lond, and the most vertuonse 
Lond of alle the World : For it is the Herte and the myddes of all the 
World ; wytnessyuge the Philosophere, that seythe thus ; Virtus re7-um 
in medio consistit: That is to seye, The-Vertue of thinges is in the myd- 
des ; and in that Lond he wolde lede his Lyf, and suiFre Passiorm and 



272 SIR JOHN MANDEYILLE Lect. VL 

Detlie, of JeAves, for its ; for to bye and to delyvere us from Peynes of 
Helle, and from Detlie witlioiiten ende ; the whiclie was ordeyned for 
us, for the Synne of oure formere Fader Adam, and for oure owne 
Synnes also : For as for himself, he hadde non evylle deserved : For he 
thonghte nevere evylle ne dyd evylle : And he that was Kyng of Glorie 
and of Joye, myghten best in that Place suifre Dethe ; because he ches 
in that Lend, rathere than in ony othere, there to suffre his Passioun 
and his Dethe : For he that wil pupplische ony thing to make it openly 
knowen, he wil make it to ben cryed and pronounced in the myddel 
place of a Town ; so that the thing that is proclamed and pronounced, 
may evenly strecche to alle Parties : Eighte so, he that was formyour 
of alle the World, wolde suffre for us at Jerusalem ; that is the myddes 
of the World ; to that ende and entent, that his Passioun and his Dethe, 
that Avas pupplischt there, myghte ben knowen evenly -to alle the Parties 
of the World. See now how dere he boughte Man, that he made after 
his owne Ymage, and how dere he azen boghte us, for the grete Love 
that he hadde to us, and we nevere deserved it to him. For more pre- 
cyous Catelle ne gretter Eansoum, ne myghte he put for us, than his 
blessede Body, his precyous Blood, and his holy Lyf, that he thralled 
for us ; and alle he offred for us, that nevere did Synne. A dere God, 
what Love hadde he to us his Subjettes, whan he that nevere trespaced, 
wolde for Trespassours suffre Dethe ! Eighte wel oughte us for to love 
and worschipe, to drede and serven suche a Lord ; and to worschipe 
and preyse suche an holy Lond, that broughte forthe suche Fruyt, 
thorghe the whiche every J\[an is saved, but it be his owne defaute. 
Wel may that Lond be called dely table and a fructuous Lond, that was 
bebledd and moysted with the precyouse Blode cf oure Lord Jesu Crist ; 
the whiche is the same Lond, that oure Lord behighten us in Heritage. 
And in that Lond he wolde dye, as seised, for to leve it to us his Child- 
ren. Wherfore every gode Cristene Man, that is of Powere, and hathe 
whereof, scholde peynen him Avith all his Strengthe for to conquere 
oure righte Heritage, and chacen out alle the mysbeleevynge Men. For 
wee ben clept Cristene Men, aftre Crist our Fadre. And zif wee ben 
righte Children of Crist, we oughte for to chalenge the Heritage, that 
oure Fadre lafte us, and do it out of hethene Mennes hondes. But 
nowe Pryde, Covetyse and Envye han so enflaAvmed the Hertes of 
Lordes of the World, that thei are more besy for to disherite here 
Ne3^ghbores, more than for to chalenge or to conquere here righte He- 
ritage before seyd. And the comoun Peple, that wolde putte here 
Bodyes and here Catelle, for to conquere oure Heritage, thei may not 
don it withouten the Lordes. Far a semblee of Peple withouten a 



Lect. VI. SIR JOHN MANDEYILLE 273 

Cheventeyn, or a chief Lord, is as a Flock of Sclieep witliouten a Scliep- 
perde ; the which departeth and desparpleth, and wyten never whidre 
to go. But wolde God, that the temporel Lordes and alle worldly 
Lordes wercn at gode accord, and with the comen Peple woiilden taken 
this holy Viage over the See. Thanne I trowe wel, that within a lityl 
tyme, oure righte Heritage before seyd scholde be reconsyled and put 
in the Hondes of the righte Heires of Jesu Crist. 

And for als moche as it is longe tynie passed, that ther was no gene- 
ralle Passage ne Vyage over the See ; and many Men desiren for to 
here speke of the holy Lond, and han thereof gTct Solace and Comfort; 
I John Maundevylle, Knyght, alle be it I be not worthi, that was born 
in Engiond, in the Town of Seynt Albones, passed the See, in the Zeer 
of our Lord Jesu Crist MCCCXXII, in the Day of Seynt Michelle ; 
and hidre to have ben longe time over the See, and have seyn and gon 
thorghe manye dyverse Londes, and many Provynces and Kyngdomes 
and lies, and have JDassed thorghe Tartarye, Percye, Ermonye the lit' 
ylle and the grete; thorghe Lybye, Caldee and a gret parti e of Ethiope; 
thorghe Amazoyne, Lide the lasse and the more, a gi-et partie ; and 
thorghe out many othere lies, that ben abouten Lide ; where dwellen 
many dyverse Folkes, and of dyverse Maneres and Lawes, and of dyverse 
Schappes of Men. Of whiche Londes and lies, I schalle speke more 
pleynly hereaftre. And I schalle devise zou sum partie of thinges that 
there ben, whan time schalle ben, aftre it may best come to my mynde ; 
and specyally for hem, that wylle and are in purpos for to visite the 
Holy Citee of Jerusalem, and the holy Places that are thereaboute. 
And I schalle telle the Weye, that thei schuUe holden thidre. For I 
have often tymes passed and ryden the way, with gode Companye of 
many Lordes : God be thonked. 

And zee schulle undirstonde, that I have put this Boke out of Latyn . 
into Frensche, and translated it azen out of Frensche into Englyssche, 
that every JMan of my Nacioun may undirstonde it. But Lordes and 
Knyghtes and othere noble and worthi Men, that conne Latyn but 
litylle, and han ben bezonde the See, knowen and undirstonden, zif I 
erre in devisynge, for forzetynge, or elles ; that thei mowe redresse it 
and amende it. For thinges passed out of longe tyme from a Mannes 
mynde or from his syght, turnen sone into forzetynge : Because that 
Mynde of Man ne may not ben comprehended ne witheholden, for the 
Freeltee of Mankynde. 

From pp. 137-139. 

And therfore I schalle telle zou, what the Soudan tolde me upon a 
day, in his Chambre. He leet voyden out of his Chambre alle maner 

T 



274 SIK JOHN MANDEVILLE Lect. VI. 

of men, Lordes and otliere: for lie wolde speke witli me in Conseille. 
And there he askede me, how the Cristene men governed hem in oiire 
Contree. And I seyde him, Eighte wel : thonked be God. And he 
seyde me, Treulyche, nay : for zee Cristene men ne recthen righte 
noghte how mitrewly to serve God. Ze scholde zeven ensample to the 
lewed peple, for to do wel; and zee zeven hem ensample to don evylle. 
For the Comownes, upon festyfulle dayes, whan thei scholden gon to 
Chirche to serve God, than gon thei to Tavemes, and ben there in glo- 
tony, alle the day and alle nyghte, and eten and drynken, as Bestes 
that have no resoim, and wite not whan thei have y now. And also 
the Cristene men enforcen hem, in alle maneres that thei mowen, for to 
fighte, and for to desceyven that on that other. And there with alle 
thei ben so proude, that thei knowen not how to ben clothed; now 
long, now schort, now strey t, noAV large, now swerded, -now daggered, 
and in alle manere gyses. Thei scholden ben symple, meke and trewe, 
and fulle of Almes dede, as Jhesu was, in whom thei trowe : but thei 
ben alle the contrarie, and evere enclyned to the Evylle, and to don 
evylle. And thei ben so coveytous, that for a lytylle Sylver, thei sel- 
len here Doughtres, here Sustres and here owne Wyfes, to putten hem 
to Leccherie. And on Avith drawethe the Wif of another : and non of 
hem holdethe Feythe to another : but thei defoulen here Lawe, that 
Jhesu Crist betook hem to kepe, for here Salvacioun. And thus for 
here Synnes, han thei lost alle this Lond, that wee holden. For, for 
hire Synnes here God hathe taken hem in to cure Hondes, noghte only 
be Strengthe of our self, but for here Synnes. For wee knowen wel in 
verry sothe, that whan zee serve God, God wil helpe zou : and whan 
he is with zou, no man may be azenst you. And that knowe we wel, 
be cure Prophecyes, that Cristene men schulle wynnen azen this Lond 
out of oure Hondes, whan thei serven God more devoutly. But als 
longe als thei ben of foule and of unclene Lyvynge, (as thei ben now) 
wee have no drede of hem, in no kynde : for here God wil not helpen 
hem in no wise. And than I asked him, how he knew the State of 
Cristene men. And he answerde me, that he knew alle the state of the 
Comounes also, be his Messangeres, that he sente to alle Londes, in 
manere as thei weren Marchauntes of precyous Stones, of Clothes of 
Gold and of othere thinges; for to knowen the manere of every Contree 
amonges Cristene men. And than he leet clepe in alle the Lordes, that 
he made voyden first out of his Chambre; and there he schewed me 4, 
that weren grete Lordes in the Contree, that tolden me of my Contree, 
and of many othere Cristene Contrees, als wel as thei had ben of the 
same Contree ; and thei spak Frensche righte wel ; and the Sowdan 



Lect. VI. POLITICAL CONDITION OP ENGLAND 275 

also, where of I had gret Marvaylle. Alias ! that it is gret sclaundre to 
cure Feythe and to oure Lawe, whan folk that ben with onten Lawe, 
schulle repreven ns and undernemen us of cure Synnes. And thei that 
scholden ben converted to Crist and to the Lawe of Jhesn, be onre gode 
Ensamples and be oure acceptable Lif to God, and so converted to the 
Lawe of Jhesn Crist, ben thorghe oure Wykkednesse and evylle lyvynge, 
fer fro iis and Straungeres fro the holy and verry Beleeve, schulle thus 
appelen us and holden us for wykkede Lyveres and cursed. And treuly 
thei sey sothe. For the Sarazines ben gode and feythfulle. For thei 
kepen entierly the Comaundement of the Holy Book Alkaron, that God 
sente hem be his Messager Machomet ; to the whiche, as thei seyne, 
seynt Gabrielle the Aungel often tynie tolde the Aville of God. 

Although the diction of Mandeville shows that the English 
language had made a rapid advance within a few years, and had 
acquired great compass and flexibility of expression, the hour 
for a truly national literature had not yet struck. But it was 
nigh at hand, and the blind struggles of the yet unconscious 
English intellect, and the material and social wants of the 
English people, were preparing a fitter medium to embody it, 
whenever English genius should be ready to incarnate itself in 
a new and original form. The slow and hard-won concessions, 
which now the nobles, now the burgesses or civic populations, 
and now, to some extent, the rustic classes, had extorted from a 
succession of despotic kings, and the gradual amalgamation of 
the indigenous and the foreign element, had at length created a 
joeople, by which term is meant, in modern political language, 
an independent body of freemen, born, every man, to the en- 
joyment of life, personal liberty, the ownership of self, and the 
use, control, and disposal of the fruits of his own labour.* The 

'*■ I am a-^are tliat serfdom or rillenage existed in England to a considerably 
later period than the fonrteenth century ; but the villeins apparently did not form 
a great proportion of the population. The nation was not divided, as in some 
European states, into nobles, burgesses, and serfs, but there was a very numerous 
class of rural tillers of the soil, and even of gentry, who were, to all intents and 
purposes, personally as free as the commonalty of England is at this day. The 
rural commoners and the burgesses far outnumbered all other ranks, and con- 
stituted the real people of England. 

T 2 



276 OLD POETICAL FOEMS Lect. VI. 

union of sach a people with the governing dynasty or class, 
whether hereditary or elective, constitutes a nation; and any 
aggregation of masters and serfs, any political society without a 
general community of rights and interests, under whatever form 
of governmental organization, composes a horde of brutal lords 
and brutified thralls, not a civilized commonwealth, a people or 
a nation. 

To this condition of political and social progress England had 
now arrived. It was a new society, with a new language, a new 
character, new wants, tastes and sentiments, and was, therefore, 
Justin the position to receive and to inspire a new literature, as 
the expression of a new and vigorous national life. 

But although, from this moment, the productions of native 
genius are marked by peculiarities never before manifested on 
English soil, and which have since continued to characterize all 
succeeding English literature, yet the old forms of composition, 
the conventional laws and restraints under which alone poetry 
had hitherto existed, were not at once (some of them never have 
been) discarded. The vocabulary, indeed, had become strongly 
tinged with an infusion of Romance words, but, though the 
process of appropriation and assimilation of this foreign material 
was still going on, there were symptoms of a reaction in fa- 
vour of obsolete or at least obsolescent Saxon philological and 
poetical canons. Early English poetry divided itself into two 
schools, both employing the same vocabulary but in different 
forms of composition. The one followed Continental models in 
literature, the other sought to recommend itself to the taste 
and character of the more numerous part of the population, by 
reviving the laws of Saxon verse, some remains of which still 
lingered in the memory of the common people. 

The Saxon alliterative and rhythmical verse was especially 
suited to a language abounding in monosyllables, with few- 
prefixes, and with a principal accent on the first syllable, which 
■was also usually the radical. Rhyme and metre are adapted 
to tongues with longer words, and with an accentual system 



Lect. VI. LAWRENCE MINOT 277 

which throws the stress of voice towards the end, rather than 
the beginning, of the word. The system of versification, be- 
longing to the language which furnished the words expressive 
of the new ideas and new conditions that formed the dis- 
tinguishing element of the new nationality, could not but finally 
prevail; and, after a short struggle, Anglo-Saxon versification 
yielded to the superior fitness of Eomance metres for the pre- 
sent tendencies of English genius, just as the character "and 
institutions of the Anglo-Saxon people had yielded to the more 
energetic life and higher culture of the Norman, 

The poems of Laurence Minot, which date a little after the 
middle of the fourteenth century, are interesting as an attempt 
to unite the Saxon characteristic of alliteration, not merely 
with rhyme, but with poetic measures both of verse and stanza 
which properly belonged to Eomance literature. It was, in- 
deed, not the first experiment of the kind, but in almost all 
previous essays the versification was so imperfect, that even 
when they imitate the longer French verses, and, of course, 
contain more syllables in the measure than was usual with the 
Anglo-Saxon poets, they are rather rhjiihmical than metrical. 

The works of Minot exist only in a single manuscript, of a 
date somewhat later than his own, written in a strongly marked 
border dialect which may almost be called Scotch ; and, there- 
fore, they are not to be relied upon as evidence of the gram- 
matical progress of the English language. They have much 
the air of a literary exercitation ; for the eleven short poems of 
which the collection consists exhibit specimens of ten different 
metres and stanzas. These poems are of interest on account 
of their versification, and especially because they are the earliest 
political verses known to have been composed in this period 
of English literature, or, indeed, after the accession of Ed- 
ward III. to the throne. The following two will suffice to give 
an idea of Minot's diction and merits as a poet : — 



278 LAWEENCE MINOT Lect. VI. 

How Edward the king come in Brahandf 
And tolce homage of all the land. 

God, that scliope botli se and sand, 
Save Edward king of Ingland, 
Both body, saul, and life, 
And grante him joy withowten strif 1 
For mani men to him er wroth. 
In Fraunce and in Flandres both ; 
For he defendes fast his right. 
And tharto Jhesn grante him might," 
And so to do both night and day, 
That yt may be to Goddes pay. 

Oiire king was cnmen, trely to tell, 
Into Brabant for to dwell ; 
The kayser Lowis of Bavere, 
That in that land than had no pere, 
He, and als his sons tAvo, 
And other princes many mo, 
Bisschoppes and prelates war thare fele. 
That had ful mekil werldly wele, 
Princes and pople, aid and gong, 
Al that spac with Duche tung. 
All thai come with grete honowre 
Sir Edward to save and soconre. 
And proferd him, with all thayre rede, 
For to hald the kinges stede. 

The duke of Braband, first of all, 
Swore, for thing that might bifall, 
That he suld both day and night 
Help sir Edward in his right, 
In toun, in feld, in frith and fen. 
This swore the duke and all his men, 
And al the lordes that with him lend, 
And tharto held thai up thaire hend. 
Than king Edward toke his rest 
At Andwerp, whare him liked best ; 
And thare he made his mone playne, 
That no man suld say thare ogayne. 
His mone, that was gude and lele, 
Left in Braband ful mekill dele ; 



Lect. VL lawbence biinot 279 

And all that land, untill this day, 
Fars the better for that jornay. 

When Philip the Yalas herd of this, 
Tharat he was ful wroth iwis ; 
He gert assemble his barounes, 
Princes and lordes of many tounes, 
At Pariss toke thai thaire counsaile, 
Whilk pointes might tham most availe ; 
And in all wise thai tham bithought 
To stroy In gland and bring to nought. 

Schipmen sone war efter sent, 
To here the hinges cimiandment ; 
And the galaies men also. 
That wist both of wele and wo. 
He cumand than that men suld fare 
Till Ingland, and for no thing spare, 
Bot brin and sla both man and wife, 
And childe, that none suld pas with li^e. 

The galay men held up thaire hand-^s, 
And thanked God for thir tithandes. 

At Ham ton, als I understand, 
Come the gaylayes unto land. 
And ful fast thai slogh and brend, 
Bot noght so makill als sum men wend. 
For or thai wened war thai mett 
"With men that sone thaire laykes lett. 
Sum was knokked on the hevyd, 
That the body thare bilevid ; 
Sum lay stareand on the sternes ; 
And sum lay knoked out their hemes, 
Than with tham was non other gle, 
Bot ful fain war thai that might fie. 
The galay men, the suth to say, 
Most nedes turn another way ; 
Thai soght the stremis fer and wide, 
In Flandres and in Seland syde. 

Than saw thai whare Cristofer stode, 
At Armouth, opon the llude. 
Than wen[t] thai theder all bidene, 
The galayes men, with hertes kene, 
Viij. and xl. galay s, and mo. 
And with tham als war tarettes two, 



280 LAWRENCE MINOT Lect. VI. 

And other many galiotes, 
With grete noumber of smale botes ; 
All thai hoved on the iiode 
To stele sir Edward mens gode. 
« Edward oure king than Avas noght there, 

But sone, when it come to his ere, 
He sembled all his men full still, 
And said to tham what was his will. 
Ilk man made him redy then. 
So went the king and all his men 
Unto thaire schippes ful hastily, 
Als men that war in dede doghty. 

Thai fand the galay men grete wane, 
A hundereth ever ogaynes ane ; 
- The Inglis men put tham to were 
Ful baldly, with bow and spere ; 
Thai slogh thare of the galaies men 
Ever sexty ogaynes ten ; 
That sum ligges jit in that mire 
All hevidles, withowten hire. 

The Inglis men war armed wele, 
Both in yren and in stele ; 
Thai faght ful fast, both day and night, 
Als long as tham lasted might. 
Bot galay men war so many. 
That Inglis men wex all Avery ; 
Help thai soght, bot thare come nane, 
Than unto God thai made thaire mane. 
Bot sen the time that God was born, 
Ne a hundreth jere biforn, 
Was never men better in fight 
Than Ingliss men, whil thai had myght. 
Bot sone all maistri gan thai mis ; 
God bring thaire saules untill his blis ! 
And God assoyl tham of thaire sin, , 
For the gude wall that thai war in I Amen* 

Listens now, and leves me, 
Who so lifes thai sail se 
That it mun be ful dere boght 
That thir galay men have wroght. 



Lect. VL LAWRENCE MINOT 281 

Thai lioved still opon the flode, 

And reved pover men thaire gude ; 

Thai robbed, and did mekill schame, 

And aye bare Ingiis men the blame. 

NoAV Jhesu save all Ingland, 

And blis it with his holy hand ! Amen. 



How Edward^ ah the Romance sais, 
Held his sege hifor Calais. 

Calais men^ now may ye care, 

And miirning miin je have to mede ; 
Mirth on mold get ge no mare, 

Sir Edward sail ken gow jowre crede. 

Whilum war ^e wight in wede, 
To robbing rathly for to ren ; 

Men jow sone of ^owre misdede, 
gowre care es cumen, will ge it ken. 

Kend it es how je war kene 

Al Ingiis men with dole to dere ; 
Thaire gudes toke je al bidene, 

No man born wald je forbere ; 

je spared noght with swerd ne spere 
To stik tham, and thaire gudes to stele. 

With wapin and with ded of were 
Thus have ge wonnen werldes Avele. 

Weleful men war je iwis ; 

Bot fer on fold sail je noght fare. 
A bare sal now abate jowre blis. 

And wirk joav bale on bankes bare. 

He sail 50W hunt, als hund dose hare, 
That in no hole sail ^e gow hide. 

For all jowre speche will he noght spare, 
Bot bigges him right by gowre side. 

Biside jow here the bare bigins 
To big his boure in winter tyde ; 

And all bityme takes he his ines, 
With semly se[rjgantes him biside. 



282 LAWKENCE MINOT Lect. VI, 

The word of liim walkes ful wide, 
Jesii, save him fro mischance ! 

In bataill dar he wele habide 
Sir Philip and sir John of France. 

The Franche men er fers and fell, 

And mase grete dray when thai er dight; 
Of tham men herd slike tales tell, 

With Edward think thai for to fight, 

Him for to hald out of his right, 
And do him treson with thaire tales. 

That was thaire purpos, day and! night, 
Bi connsail of the cardinales. 

Cardinales, with hattes rede. 

War fro Calays wele thre myle ; 
Thai toke thaire comisail in that stede 

How thai might sir Edward bigile. 

Thai lended thare hot litill while, 
Til Franche men to grante thaire grace. 

Sir Philip was funden a file, 
He fled, and faght noght in that place. 

In that place the bare was blith. 

For all was fmiden that he soght ; 
Philip the Yalas fled ful swith. 

With the batail that he had broght. 

For to have Calays had he thoght, 
All at his ledeing loud or still ; 

Bot all thaire wiles war for noght, 
Edward wan it at his will. 

Lystens now, and ^e may lere, 

Als men the suth may understand ; 
The knightes that in Calais were 

Come to sir Edward sare wepeand, 

Li kirtell one, and swerd in hand, 
And cried, ' Sir Edward, thine [wej are ; 

Do now, lord, bi law of land, 
Thi will with us for evermare.' 



Lect. VI. LAWKENCE MINOT 283 

The nobill burgase and tlie best 

Come unto him to have thaire hire ; 
The comun piiple war fill prest 

Rapes to bring obout thaire SAvire. 

Thai said all, ' Sir Philip, oure sjre, 
And his sun, sir John of France, 

Has left us ligand in the mire, 
And broght us till this doleful dance. 

* Oure horses, that war faire and fat, 

Er etin up ilkone bidene ; 
Have we nowther conig ne cat, 

That thai ne er etin, and hundes kene. 

All er etin up ful clene, 
Es nowther levid biche ne Avhelp ; 

That es wele on oure sembland sene ; 
And thai er lied that suld us help.' 

A knight that was of grete renowne, 

Sir John de Viene was his name, 
He was wardaine of the toune, 

And had done Ingland mekill schame. 

For all thaire boste thai er to blame, 
Ful stalworthly thare have thai strevyu. , 

A bare es cumen to mak tham tame ; 
Kayes of the toun to him er gifen. 

The kaies er golden him of the gate, 

Lat him now kepe tham if he kun ; 
To Calais'cum thai all to late. 

Sir Philip and Sir John his sun. 

Al war ful ferd that thare ware iun, 
Thaire leders may thai barely ban. 

All on this wise Avas Calais Avon ; 
God save tham that it so gat wan. 

The attempts of Minot, and of other later as well as con- 
temporaneous rhymers, to reconcile the Grothic and Eomance 
systems of verse — like many suggestions of compromise on 
more important subjects — satisfied the partisans of neither 



284 ANGLO-SAXON VERSE Lect. VI. 

mode of composition, and his example was followed by no great 
writer. Langlande and his school adhered strictly to the Saxon 
canons. Grower and Chaucer, and the great body of English 
poets, preferred Eomance metres. Half-way measures failed 
altogether. Alliteration, it is true, was occasionally employed 
as a casual ornament, but the works of Langlande and his im- 
mediate followers were the last, of any merit, which regularly 
conformed to the canons of Anglo-Saxon verse, and the struggle 
ended with the final triumph of Eomance forms. 

The works of the English poets who followed Anglo-Saxon 
models, in the latter part of the fourteenth century, are among 
the most interesting and important literary productions of that 
age ; and hence it becomes necessary to devote a moment to the 
metrical or rather rhythmical system of the ancient Anglian 
people, which, with one important difference, corresponds to 
that of the Scandinavian and some of the Grermanic races. 
Ancient versification is founded on temporal quantity, modern 
on accentuation ; but modern Eomance verse agrees with the 
classical metres in requiring a certain number of syllables to 
each measure, and the accented syllables are, in number and 
position, subject to the same laws of regularity and sequence 
as the temporally long syllables in the classic metres. But in 
the primitive rhythmical poetry of the Scandinavians and the 
Anglo-Saxons, the number of unaccented syllables and the 
position of the accented ones, were variable, so that nothing- 
was constant but the number of these latter. In the im- 
passioned, emphatic recitative of ruder ages, this numerical 
regularit}^ might be a sufficient formal distinction between 
poetry and prose ; but v/hen the lay of the bard was written 
down, and read, not chanted or declaimed, . it was soon per- 
ceived that something more was required to enable verse to 
produce an agreeable sensuous effect upon the ear. This was 
first obtained by the simple expedient of alliteration ; but as the 
poetic ear became more cultivated, and, of course, more fas- 
tidious and more exacting, other coincidences of sound were 



Lect. VI. ANGLO-SAXON VERSE — ASSONANCE 285 

introduced. The Scandinavians employed line-rhyme both as 
half and as perfect rhyme, that is, syllables which agreed in the 
consonants, but differed in the vowels, as land, lend, fear, fire, 
and syllables which agreed in all the vocal elements, or ordi- 
nary rhymes. In their poetry, these corresponding syllables 
occurred not at the ends of the lines, but in pairs in the same 
line, though, in the later stages of Icelandic literature, end- 
rhyme was employed also. This latter form of consonance was 
sometimes used by the Anglo-Saxons, — probably from an ac- 
quaintance with Continental rhymes which the Scandinavians 
did not possess, — but neither half-rhyme nor any form of line- 
rhyme seems ever to have been designedly introduced, though 
the Danish and Norwegian bards who frequented the courts of 
the Saxon kings must have made that form of versification 
known in England. 

I do not find any satisfactory evidence that assonance, or 
the employment of the same vowel with different consonants, 
which characterizes the ballad poetry of Spain, was resorted to 
in the classic Anglo-Saxon period ; but in the semi-Saxon of 
Layamon, as we ha^?e already seen, it is of frequent occurrence, 
and I have no doubt it was intentionally introduced. Critics, 
however, do not appear to have always recognized this coin- 
cidence of sound in Layamon as true assonance, and they have 
sometimes endeavoured to explain it by the gratuitous assump- 
tion, that syllables spelled with very different consonants were 
pronounced alike, so as to make perfect rhymes of pairs of 
words which are apparently assonant merely. This resem- 
blance of vowel alone proved too monotonous for the Northern 
ear, which was trained by its habitual system of strong inflec- 
tion to demand contrast as well as coincidence of syllable, and 
the innovation of Layamon found no imitators. 

.During the era of transition from the Anglo-Saxon to the 
English nationality and speech, the native bards were imitators 
of Norman-French poetry, and the Saxon versification fell into 
almost total disuse, while nearly every variety of Eomance verse 



286 EAELY ENGLISH VEESE Lect. VI. 

was freely employed. But when the English people had under- 
gone the last of theii metamorphoses, and appeared as a new 
estate upon the stage of human affairs, there was naturally a 
hesitation, a vacillation, with regard to the forms in which the 
nascent literature should clothe itself, and there were still con- 
flicting tendencies and partialities to be reconciled. 

While, therefore, the first great English poets were as 
thoroughly and unmistakeably national, in matter and in 
spirit, as the most marked of their successors, we find in 
Chaucer only Romance forms of composition; but in Langlande, 
the author of Piers Ploughman, and his followers, purely 
English thoughts, and a well assimilated composite diction, with 
the rhythmic and alliterative structure which characterizes 
Anglo-Saxon verse. It is remarkable, as I have elsewhere ob- 
served, that in this attempt to revive those obsolete measures, 
Langlande adhered more closely to the normal forms, and 
allowed himself fewer licenses, than did the Anglo-Saxons 
themselves; and his poems accordingly exhibit more truly 
the essential characteristics of alliterative and rhythmical verse 
than any of the works of the masters he copied. 

Hence, though highly original, thoroughly genial, and fully 
imbued with the spirit of the age and of the commonwealth 
of which he was the first-born intellectual son, yet, in his 
versification, he was little better than a servile imitator. This 
is by no means a singular instance of the constraint which 
the employment of ancient instrumentalities imposes upon a 
modern author. No scholar of our day, writing in Latin prose, 
would think himself safe in joining together any two words, 
for the combination of which he could not adduce the authority 
of a classic example, nor, in hexameters, or the lyric metres, 
would he venture a succession of syllables for which he could 
not find a precedent in the Gradus ad Parnassum. 

The strife between the Romance and the Saxon forms of 
verse was not of long duration. Besides the reasons I have 
already given for the triumph of the former, there was the 



Lect. VI. . KOMANTIC POETRY 287 

fact that Anglo-Saxon poetry was obsolete, unintelligible, dead 
and forgotten, while Norman-French literature was still a living, 
a luxuriant and a fragrant vine. Langlande was the last of 
the old school in form, the first of the new in genius and 
spirit. The authors of Piers Ploughman and of the Canterbury 
Tales are both intensely English ; but as two sons of the same 
parentage, while closely resembling each other, often reproduce, 
the one, the mother's traits, the other, the lineaments of the 
father, so Langlande most prominently exhibits the Anglo-Saxon, 
Chaucer the Norman-French, complexion and features of the 
composite race, which they so well represent and adorn. 

There is not much literary matter of special interest or 
importance, which can be positively assigned to the period 
between Minot and Langlande ; but there are numerous versi- 
fied romances, chiefly translations from the French, which 
were executed, or at least transcribed, in the course of the 
fourteenth century. Most of these, as I have before remarked, 
are carelessly copied, and they are often stamped with dialectic 
peculiarities which certainly belong to no era of the common 
literary dialect of England. They could, therefore, even if 
possessed of conspicuous literary merit, not well be employed as 
illustrations of sketches which aim to give an outline of the 
progress, not of the aberrations, of the English language. But 
they are, in general, so worthless in themselves, that they 
would not repay an analysis, and I prefer to limit myself to 
productions which were either efficient causes, or normal results 
and exemplifications, of the march of English genius and the 
English speech. 

The following poem, written on a very important occasion — 
the death of Edward III., in 1377 — is smooth in versification, 
and is a not unfavourable specimen of the power of expression 
to which the language had attained at that period : — 



288 POEM ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD III. LecT. VL 

ON THE DEATH OE EDWAED III.— 1377. 

A ! dere God, what may this be, 

That alle thing weres and wasteth away? 
Frendschyp is but a vanyte, 

Unnethe hit dures al a day. 

Thei beo so clipor at assay, 
So leof to han, and loth to lete, 

And so fikel in heore fay, 
That selden iseige is sone for3ete. 

I sei hit not withonten a cause. 

And therefore takes riht god hede ; 
For jif ye construwe this clause, 

I puit jou holly out of drede. 

That puire schame jor hert wold blede, 
And ^e this matere wysly trete. 

He that was ur most spede 
Is selden seye and sone forjete. 

Sum tyme an Englis schip we had, 

Nobel hit was, and heih of tour ; 
Thorw al Christendam. hit was drad, 

And stif wold stonde in uch a stour, 

And best dorst byde a scharp schour, 
And other stormes smale and grete ; 

Nou is that schip, tliat bar the flour, 
Selden seige and sone forjete. 

Into that schip ther longeth a roothur, 

That steered the schip, and governed hit j 
In al this world nis such anothur, 

As me thenketh in my wit. 

Whil schip and rothur togeder was knit, 
Thei dredde nother tempest, druyje, nor wefe ; 

Nou be thei bothe in synder flit ; 
That selden seije is sone forgete. 

Scharpe wawes that schip has sayled, 

And sayed all sees at aventur ; 
For wynt ne wederes never hit fayled; 

Wil the roothur miht enduir. 



LecT. VI. POEM ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD III. 289 

Thong the see were roug, or elles dimuuir, 
Gode havenes that schip wold geete. 

Nou is that schip, I am Avel suir, 
Selde iseye and sone forgete. 

This good schip I may remene 

To the chivalrye of this londe ; 
Sum tyme thei connted nonjt a bene 

Beo al Frannce, ich nnderstonde. 

Thei toke and slong hem with her wonde, 
The power of Fraunce, bethe smale and grete ; 

And brongt the kyng hider to byde her bonde ; 
And nou riht sone hit is forjete. 

That schip hadde a ful siker mast, 

And a sayl strong and large, 
That make the gode schip never agast 

To undertake a thinge of charge. 

And to that schip ther longed a barge, 
Of al Fraunce gaf nougt a cleete. 

To us hit was a siker targe ; 
And now riht clene hit is forgete, 

The rother was nouther ok ne elm, 

Hit was Edward the thridde the noble knihtj 
The prince his sone bar up his helm. 

That never scoumfited was in fiht. 

The kyng him rod and rouwed ariht, 
The prince dredde nouther stok nor streete. 

Nou of hem we lete ful liht ; 
That selden is seige is sone forgete. 

The swifte barge was duk Henri, 

That noble kniht, and wel assayed ; 
And in his leggaunce worthily 

He abod mony a bitter brayd. 

jif that his enemys ougt outrayed, 
To chasteis hem wolde he not lete. 

Nou is that lord ful lowe ileyd 5 
That selde is seije is sone forjete. 
u 



290 POEM ON THE DEATH OP EDWARD III, LecT. VI. 

This gode comunes, bi the rode, 

I likne hem to the schipes mast ; 
That with heore catel and with heore goode 

Mayntened the werre both furst and last. 

The wynd that bleug the schip with blast, 
Hit was gode prejeres, I sey hit atrete ; 

Nou is devoutnes out icast, 
And mony gode dedes ben ciene forjete. 

Thus ben this lordes ileid ful lowe ; 

The stok is of the same rote ; 
And ympe biginnes for to growe, ^ 

And jit I hope schal ben xir bote, 

To wolde his fomen underfote, 
And as a lord be set in sete. 

Crist, lene that he so mote, 
That selden iseije be not forgete. 

Weor that impe ifully growe. 

That he had sarri, sap, and pith, 
I hope he schnlde be kud and knowe 

For conquerour of moni a kith. 

He is ful livelich in lyme and lith 
In armes to travayle and to swete. 

Crist, live we so fare him with, 
That selden seije be never forjete. 

And therefore hoUiche I ou rede, 

Til that this ympe beo fulli growe, 
That uch a mon up with the hede. 

And mayntene him bothe heije and lowe. 

The Frensche men cunne bothe bost and blow©) 
And with heore scornes us to-thret6 ; 

And we beoth bothe unkuynde and slowe, 
That selden seige is sone forjete. 

And therfore, gode sires, taketh reward 

Of jor douhti kyng that deyjede iu age^ 
And to his sone prince Edward 

That welle was of alle corage. 



Lect. VI. THE BOKE OF CUETASYE 291 

Sucli two lordes of helje parage 
Is not in eorthe whom we sclial gete. 

And nou lieore los beginneth to swage, 
Tliat selde iseige is sone for^ete. 

Another poem whicli is not without some philological im- 
portance, and which is of interest for the light it throws on the 
manners of the higher classes of society in the fourteenth cen- 
tury, and their probable mode of education, is the Boke of 
Curtasye, an edition of which has been published by the Camden 
Society. This is a species of School of good Manners, for pages 
who were themselves of gentle birth. It discloses a coarseness 
of habits in the more elevated classes, strangely contrasting 
with the material luxury which seems, from other evidence, to 
have prevailed at that period in royal and noble circles. The 
Forme of Cury — which is stated to have been ' compiled of the 
chef Maister Cokes of k}mg Eichard the Secunde kyng of 
Englond after the Conquest,' and which exists in a manuscript 
certainly nearly as old as the beginning of the fifteenth century — 
shows that the kitchens of its time were, in variety and sensual 
piquancy, little inferior to those of LucuUus and Apicius. But 
English luxury, in the fourteenth century, was confined chiefly 
to the gratification of the grosser appetites ; and costly and 
diversified indulgence of these by no means implies refinement 
and elegance of manners and sentiment, but, on the contrary, 
rather supposes a' sensuality of constitution, which easily degene- 
rates into a clownish disregard of the graceful conventionalities,, 
and even of the decencies, of civilized life. 

The Boke of Curtasye is contained in the same manuscript 
with the Liber Cocorum, a cookery-book of the fourteenth cen- 
tury, the publication of which, as well as of others of the same 
class, Wright suggests as a desideratum. The vocabulary of 
books on these and kindred unfamiliar subjects is rich in terms 
rarely elsewhere met with, and they furnish much information 
both on the tastes and habits of mediaeval Europe, particularly 

u 2 



292 THE BOKE OF CURTASTE Lect. VI. 

on a topic whicli, though of profound interest, has engaged the 
attention of competent scholars less than almost any other 
branch of modern history — the commercial relations between 
the different European states and between Europe and the East. 
The trade of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries was con- 
ducted on a larger scale, and a more extensively ramified and 
more cunningly organized system, than is usually suspected by 
persons not familiar with the chronicles, and more especially 
the non-literary records of the Middle Ages. The questions : 
what were the articles which the great merchants of the Medi- 
terranean countries imported from the East, at different periods 
between the downfall of Eome and the discovery of the Cape of 
Grcod Hope ; by what mode of exchange and by what routes of 
transport did they obtain them ; and, above all, where and by 
what instrumentalities these articles were distributed — have 
been as yet but imperfectly answered. Eesearches in that 
direction — which the throwing open of secret archives is so 
rapidly facilitating — will furnish elucidations of many obscure 
passages in early literature, and, especially, advance our know- 
ledge of historical etymology, for which, linguistic conjecture is, 
in very many departments of philology, a very poor substitute. 
Much of the Boke of Curtasye is too repulsive for quotation. 
The following passage seems to show that pages did not receive 
a great amount of literary instruction, but it gives a more 
favourable impression of their moral training than the lives of 
their lords would authorise us to expect. 

YfF that thou be a gong enfaimt, 
And tlienke tlio scoles for to haunt, 
This lessoun schuUe thy maister the merke, 
Cros Crist the spede in alle thi werke ; 
Sytthen thy Pater Noster he wille the teclie, 
As Cristes owne postles con preche ; 
After thy Ave Maria and thi Crede, 
That shalle the save at dome of drede ; 
Thenne aftur to blesse the with the Trinity, 
In nomine Patris teche he wille the ; 



Lect. VL the boke of cuetaste 293 

Then with Marke, Mathew, Luke, and Jon, 

"With the pro cruce and the hegh name ; 

To shryve the in general thou shalle lere, 

Thy confiteor and misereatur in fere ; 

To seche the kyngdam of God, my chylde, 

Thereto y rede thou be not wylde. 

Therefore worschip God, bothe olde and gong, 

To be in body and soule y-liche strong. 

When thou comes to the churche dore, 

Take the haly water stondand on flora ; 

Eede or synge or byd prayeris 

To Crist, for alle thy Crysten ferys ; 

Be curtayse to God, and knele doun 

On bothe knees with grete devocioun. 

To mon thou shalle knele opon the toun, 

The tother to thyself thou halde alone. 

"When thou ministers at the hegh autere, 

With bothe hondes thou serve tho prest in fere, 

The ton to stabuUe the tother. 

Lest thou fliyle, my dere brother. 

Another curtasye y wylle the teche. 

Thy fadur and modur, with mylde speche, 

Thou worschip and serve v/ith alle thy myjt, 

That thou dwelle the lengur in erthely lyjt. 

To another man do no more amys, 

Then thou woldys be done of hym and hys, 

So Crist thou pleses, and gets the love 

Of menne and God that syttes above. 

Be not to meke, but in mene the holde, 

ffor ellis a fole thou wylle be tolde. 

He that to ry5t\\ysnes wylle enclyne, 

As holy wrygt says us wele and fyne, 

His sede schalle never go seche nor brede, 

Ne suffur of mon no shames dede. 

To forgyf thou shalle the hast, 

To venjaunce loke thou come on last ; 

Draw the to pese with alle thy strengthe, 

ffro stryf and bate draw the on lengthe. 

Yf mon aske the good for Goddys sake, 

And the -vvont thyng wherof to take, 



294 THE BOKE OF CURTASIE Lect, VI. 

Gyf hym bone wordjs on fayre manere, 

With glad semblaint and pure good cher. 

Also of service tliou slialle be fre 

To every mon in hys degre. 

Thou schalle never lose for to be kynde, 

That on forgets another hase in mynde. 

Yf any man have part with the in gyft, 

With hym thou make an even skyft ; 

Let hit not henge in honde for glose, 

Thou art uncurtayse yf thou hyt dose. 

To sayntes yf thou thy gate hase hygt, 

Thou schalle fuliylle hit with alle thy my^t, 

Lest God the stryk with grete venjaunce, 

And pyt the into sore penaunce. 

Leve not alle men that speke the fayre, 

Whether that liit ben comyns, burges, or mayr ; 

In swete wordis the nedder was closet, 

Disseyvaunt ever and mysloset ; 

Therfore thou art of Adams blode, 

With wordis be Avare, but thou be wode ; 

A short worde is comynly sothe, 

That first slydes fro monnes tothe. 

Loke lyger never that thou become, 

Kepe thys worde for alle and somme. 

Lawje not to of [t] for no solace, 

ffbr no kyn myrth that any man muse ; 

Who lawes all that men may se, 

A schrew or a fole hyin semes to ba. 



LECTUEE Vn. 



THE AUTHOR OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN AND HIS IMITATORS. 

The precise date of the poem called the Vision of Piers 
Ploughman is unknown, but there is little doubt that it was 
given to the world between the years 1360 and 1370. The 
authorship of the work is also matter of uncertainty, and the 
tradition which ascribes it to Langlande, an English monk, is 
not supported by conclusive testimony. But a perhaps imaginary 
Langlande has long enjoyed the credit of the composition, and 
until evidence shall be adduced to invalidate his possessory 
claim and establish an adverse title, there can be no danger of 
doing injustice to the real author by availing ourselves of that 
name as a convenient impersonation of an unknown writer. 

The familiarity which the poet displays with ecclesiastical 
literature could, in that age, hardly have been attained by any 
but a member of the clerical profession, and therefore the pre- 
sumption is strong that he was a churchman. His zeal and his 
conviction did not carry him to such perilous lengths as were 
hazarded by Wycliffe and his school, but he was a forerunner in 
the same path, and though we know nothing of his subsequent 
history, it is not improbable that he ultimately arrived at the 
same results. 

The author of Piers Ploughman was evidently well acquainted 
with the Latin poems ascribed to Walter de Mapes, written 
chiefly in the previous century, and of which I have been unable 
to take notice in this succinct view of early English literature, 
because, having been composed in Latin, they cannot properly 



296 PIEES rLOUGtHMAN Lect. VII. 

be included in a historical sketch of English philology. But 
though there are passages in Piers Ploughman, which, if they 
stood alone, might be considered as directly borrowed from 
Mapes, yet the general treatment of the subject by Langlande 
is so peculiar, that the whole work must be pronounced eminently 
original, in the sense in which that epithet is usually and pro- 
perly applied, in literary criticism, to discursive and imaginative 
productions. 

Every great popular writer is, in a certain sense, a product of 
his country and his age, a reflection of the intellect, the moral 
sentiment and the prevailing social opinions of his time. The 
author of Piers Ploughman, no doubt, embodied in a poetic 
dress just what millions felt, and perhaps hundreds had uttered 
in one fragmentary form or another. His poem as truly ex- 
pressed the popular sentiment, on the subjects it discussed, as 
did the American Declaration of Independence the national 
thought and feeling on the relations between the Colonies and 
Great Britain. That remarkable document disclosed no pre- 
viously unknov/n facts, advanced no new political opinions, pro- 
claimed no sentiment not warranted by previous manifestations 
of popular doctrine and the popular will, employed perhaps 
even no new combination of words, in incorporating into one 
proclamation the general results to which the American head 
and heart had arrived. Nevertheless, Jefferson, who drafted it, 
is as much entitled to the credit of originality, as he who has 
best expressed the passions and emotions of men in the shifting 
scenes of the drama or of song. 

The Vision of Piers Ploughman thus derives its interest, not 
from the absolute novelty of its revelations, but partly from its 
literary form, partly from the moral and social bearings of its 
subject — the corruptions of the nobility and of the several de- 
partments of the government, the vices of the clergy and the 
abuses of the church — in short, from its connection witli the 
actual life and opinion of its time, into which it gives us a clearer 
insight than many a laboured history. Its dialect, its tone, and 



Lect. VIL piers PLOUaHMAN 297 

its poetic dress alike conspired to secure to the Vision a wide 
circulation among the commonalty of the realm, and, by formu- 
lating — to use a favourite word of the day — sentiments almost 
universally felt, though but dimly apprehended, it brought them 
into distinct consciousness, and thus prepared the English people 
for the reception of the seed, which the labours of Wycliffe and 
his associates were already sowing among them. 

The number of early manuscripts of this work which still sur- 
vive proves its general diffusion ; and the wide variations which 
exist between the copies show that they had excited interest 
enough to be thought worthy of careful revision by the original 
author, or, as is more probable, of important modification by 
the numerous editors and transcribers under whose recension 
they subsequently passed. This, indeed, was the custom of the 
time ; but in most cases, copyists only accommodated the dia- 
lect of the author to that of their own age or district, or, at 
most, added here and there an explanatory gloss, whereas in 
some of. the later manuscripts of Piers Ploughman, a very dif- 
ferent tone of sentiment prevails from that which marks what 
is believed to be the original text of the work. It had become 
eminently a popular possession, a didactic catechism. This fact 
and its anonymous character would be thought to justify licenses 
in copyists, whereas the works of Grower and Chaucer came in a 
purely literary form, and v/ith an authority derived from the 
social position of the writers, which secured them from being 
so freely tampered with by later editors ; and consequently the 
differences between different manuscripts of those authors are 
generally grammatical or orthographical merely. 

The querulous tone of Piers Ploughman is another circum- 
stance which gave it special favour in the eyes of the populace, 
or rather of the middle classes, which had acquired a certain 
degree of opulence and culture, but yet not strength enough to 
be able to protect themselves effectually against the rapacity of 
their spiritual and temporal lords. 

The people, imder all governments — at least under all those 



298 PIEES PLOUGHMAN X.UCT. VIL 

whose subjects enjoy any acknowledged positive rights as against 
the sovereign power — are habit aally disposed to complaint. 
This is especially true of the English, who, with a government 
almost uniformly better, in its internal administration, than 
those of any of their Continental neighbours, have always been 
a nation of good-natured grumblers. Political satires, com- 
plaints with a strong spice of humour and a liberal share of per- 
sonality, are particularly acceptable to that people, and frequency 
and freedom of such criticism on governmental action has, 
under most reigns, been a characteristic of the public life of 
England. The extortion of Magna Charta was a macifestation 
of English character, and the spirit of that instrument, which 
was broader than its letter, has fostered the inclination, and 
secured the right, of the subject to sit in judgment on his ruler. 

If we compare the earliest writings which are distinctively 
English in temper and language, including Piers Ploughman as 
their best and truest representative, with those of the Anglo- 
Saxons, we shall find that certain salient traits which mark the 
English are almost wholly wanting in Saxon. The element of 
humour, though in a very different sense from that in which the 
word is used in the dialect of G-erman criticism*, is, and from 
the fourteenth century has been, eminently characteristic of 
English literature. This trait does not exist in the extant re- 
mains of Anglo-Saxon poetry or prose, nor does it appear to 
have formed an ingredient in the character of that people. 

The quality of humour is everywhere, in some measure, the 
fruit of culture. Not only savages, but all rude races who have 
to struggle against an ungenial climate, and a soil which yields 
no spontaneous fruits, are grave. Wit and humour are products 
of that stage of civilization, which belongs to such a develop- 

■'•" English humour is often at once pathetic and laughter-moving; German 
humour is, not unfrequently, very drcarj^, without l)eing either. In this censure, 
I do not, certainty, include the tales of Musaeus, still less the wonderful works of 
-Jean Paul, the prince of genuine humourists. Some of Tieck's stories are full of 
this quality, and I think there are, in modern literature, few moi'e humorous 
talcs than his autobiography of the tailor-emperor, Tonelii, in the ninth volume 
of his eolleoted works. 



Lect. VII. WIT AND HUMOUR 299 

ment of the material resources of a country as leaves to its more 
prosperous inhabitants some leisure for other occupations than 
the serious toils and hazards of war, or the lonely and silent 
and weary pursuits of the chase — for to those who live by wood- 
craft, hunting is a solitary labour, not a social recreation. 

The degree of artificial culture which is required for the 
generation of such products will be very different under different 
climates and other natural conditions. In the frozen North, 
and on the infertile sands of a tropical desert, where constant 
effort is required to supply the physical v/ants of life, these 
sparJding traits of thought will not manifest themselves, except 
under the influence of letters. But under more genial skies, 
where Earth almost spontaneously feeds her children, the poetic 
impulses and aspects of Nature herself supply a culture, which 
seems in some degree to render the artificial training of schools 
and of books superfluous, and to endow the most untaught with 
a quickness of apprehension, and a keenness of perception of 
less obvious analogies, which, in less favoured climes, are almost 
always acquired, not self-developed, faculties. Besides this, in 
those countries whick were the seats of ancient civilization, a 
traditional culture has survived the revolutions of many centu- 
ries and still pervades the lowest strata of society.* The remains 

* The traditions of Italy have kept alive, in the memorj of the people, not 
only numerous fragments of ancient history, Ibut many of the romantic dreams and 
visions of the Middle Ages. The progress of knowledge in the Northern states 
of Italy has, within a few years, diffused a taste for reading among classes, which, 
less thiui a generation since, never looked upon a printed page. The subjects 
selected naturally connect themselves with the traditions I have spoken of, and 
at this moment, in Piedmont and Lombardy, the favourite books, among the 
least-instructed ranks who read at all, are the old romances of chivalry. Of 
these, the Eeai-i di Fbancia nei quali si contiene la generazione degli Imperatori, 
Ke, Duchi, Principi, Baroni e Paladini di Francia, cominciando da Costantino 
Emperatore sino ad Orlando, Conte d' Angiante, and, Gueeino detto il Meschino, 
storia delle grandi imprese e vittorie da lui riportate contro i Turchi, are the 
most popular. Cheap editions of these are multiplied and sold in ^reat numbers, 
and they are read by thousands of persons in conditions of life in which, in 
England and America, nothing is ever heard of the ' dowzepers ' of him, who 

With all his peerage fell 
At Fontarabia. 



300 WIT AND HUMOUR Lect. VII. 

of classic art, and the vague memories of by-gone national 
power and splendour, contribute also to educate and refine classes 
which, in younger races and more recently subdued regions, 
fall below the reach of all elevating influences. 

Hence while the Grothic tribes, though profound and strong 
in intellect, are obtuse till artificially quickened by education, 
the Eomance nations are rapid and precocious in the operations 
of the intellect, sensible to artistic beauty, alive to the charms 
of nature, and ever awake to the, sense of the ludicrous. The 
populace of Europe who laugh the most, and have the most 
mirth-inspiring dialect and habits, are the Neapolitan plebeians; 
but a Styrian or a Carinthian peasant, with the same amount 
of positive attainment which the humble Italian possesses, is as 
solemn not to say as stupid as the cattle he drives. 

The distinction between wit and humour is not very easily 
expressed or apprehended, as is abundantly shown by the 
thousand abortive attempts to discriminate between them ; and 
it is as difficult to define either as to describe the smile they 
kindle. 

Wit has been said to consist in the perception of obscure re- 
lations, and this half-truth explains how it is that men of mul- 
tifarious reading — whose knowledge, of course, reveals to them 
analogies not obvious to less instructed minds — are never with- 
out wit. 

I shall not attempt what none has yet satisfactorily accom- 
plished, the description and limitation of wit and humour, nor is 
any discussion of the special character of the former essential 
to our present purpose ; but we may say, in a general way, that 
while true wit is as universal as social culture, humour is local- 
ized and national, and the distinctive forms in which different 
peoples clothe the ludicrous conceptions peculiar to themselves 
and almost inappreciable by strangers, constitute iheir national 
humour. 

English humour, then, is Anglicized wit. It is a spark thrown 
out whenever the positive and negative electricities of the French 



Lect. VII. PIERS PLOUGHMAN 301 

and Saxon constituents of the English intellect are passing into 
equilibrium, and no great English writer has ever been able 
wholly to suppress it. Piers Ploughman is pervaded with 
humour, and this quality undoubtedly contributed, in a great 
degree, to its general popularity. 

The familiarity of even the labouring classes with this work, 
and the strong hold it soon acquired on the popular mind, are 
well illustrated in the curious letter addressed to the commons 
of Essex by the enlightened, brave, and patriotic John Ball, 
who is conspicuous as one of the few clerical advocates of the 
rights of man, in the Middle Ages.* In this letter, the 
reformer introduces the names of John Schep or Shepherd — 
borrowed probably, as Wright suggests, from the opening lines 
of the poem : 

I slioop me into shroiides 
As I a sheep weere, — 

and that of Piers Ploughman, as personages familiar to those 
whom he was addressing ; and in another part of the letter, he 
quotes, in an emphatic way, the phrases * do well ' and ' do 
better,' which are of very frequent occurrence in the Vision as 

^ I take the text of this letter from the Introduction to Wright's edition of 
Piers Ploughman : 

' John Schep, sometime Seint Mary priest of Yorke, and now of Colchester, 
graeteth well John Namelesse, and John the Miller, and John Carter, and Liddeth 
them that they heware of guyle in borough, and stand together in Gods name, 
and biddeth Piers Plowcman goe to his werke, and chastise well Hob the robber, 
and take with you John Trewman, and all his fellows, and no moe. John the 
Miller hath y-ground smal, small, small. The kings sonne of heaven shall pay for 
all. Beware or ye be woe, know your frende fro your foe, hare ynough, and 
say hoe : And do wel and better, and flee sinne, and seeke peace and holde you 
therin, and so biddeth John Trewman and all his fellowes.' 

The orthography Schep suggests the probability that the form sheep, in the 
couplet quoted above, is erroneous, and undoubtedly the word, when used for 
shepherd, had a different pronunciation from that given to it when it was simply 
the name of the quadruped. 

The letter is interesting, not only from its connection with the poem, Piers 
Ploughman, but as a specimen of an argot, or conventional dialect ; for there can 
be no doubt that such phrases as ' guyle in borough ' ' do wel and better,' and 
the like, had some other than their apparent and literal meaning, 



302 PIERS PLOUGHMAN Lect. VII. 

the designations of two of the allegorical dramatis personse of 
the poem. It is probable that in this case John Schep and 
Piers Ploughman, as well as the other proper names used in 
the letter, were appellations assumed as a disguise by real per- 
sons, though the people of Essex doubtless well knew who were 
meant by them. 

But whether we suppose these names to be here used as in- 
dicating a class, or as the noms de guerre of individuals, the 
fact of their employment for the one purpose, or their assump- 
tion for the other, proves that their poetical and political signi- 
ficance, and of course the general scope of the poem, were well 
understood by the humblest class of English citizens who were 
open to any form of literary influence. 

As I have already remarked, a circumstance which gives im- 
portance to Piers Ploughman and its imitations is, the form of 
poetical composition in which they are dressed. The verse is 
neither metrical nor rhymed ; but it is characterized by rhythm 
and alliteration, according to the Anglo-Saxon models of versi- 
fication, and, as was observed in the last lecture, it conforms 
more closely to the conventional rules of Anglo-Saxon poetical 
composition than any of the existing remains of the poetry of 
that literature. This fact has been partly explained by the cir- 
cumstance that it was an imitation of an extinct poetical form ; 
but it is also an evidence that the influence of the Danish in- 
vaders — v/hose bards employed rhythm and alliteration with 
greater strictness than the Anglo-Saxons had ever done — had 
some weight in reviving the taste for a form of verse which had 
become obsolete in the indigenous literature of England. On 
the other hand, it suggests the probability that rhythm and re- 
gular alliteration, though they had nearly disappeared from 
written native poetry, may have been kept alive in popular 
ballads, existing in oral tradition to a greater extent than written 
records now remaining would authorize us to infer.* 

* For an account of Anglo-Saxon and old English alliterative measures, see 
First Series, Lecture XXV. It has been conjectured that there was, ia this 



Lect. VIL piers PLOUaHMAN 303 

The Vision of the Ploughman furnishes abundant evidence of 
the familiarity of its author with the Latin Scriptures, the 
writings of the fathers, and the commentaries of Eomish expo- 
sitors, but exhibits very few traces of a knowledge of Eomance 
literature. Still the proportion of Norman-French words, or at 
least of words which, though of Latin origin, are French in 
form, is quite as great as in the works of Chaucer. The fami- 
liar use of this mixed vocabulary, in a poem evidently intended 
for the popul?tr ear, and composed by a writer who gives no 
other evidence of an acquaintance with the literature of France, 
would, were other proof wanting, tend strongly to confirm the 
opinion I have before advanced, that a large infusion of French 
words had been, not merely introduced into the literature, but 
already incorporated into the common language of England; 
and that only a ver}^ small proportion of those employed by the 
poets were first introduced by them. 

The poem, if not altogether original in conception, is abun^ 
dantly so in treatment. The spirit it breathes, its imagery, the 
turn of thought, the style of illustration and argument it em- 
ploys, are as remote as possible from the tone of Anglo-Saxon 
poetry, but exhibit the characteristic moral and mental traits 
of the Englishman, as clearly and unequivocally as the most 
national portions of the works of Chaucer or of any other native 
writer. 

The Vision has little unity of plan, and indeed — considered 
as a satire against many individual and not obviously connected 
abuses in church and state — it needed none. But its aim and 
purpose are one. It was not an expostulation with temporal 

ancient verse, as well as in Greek and Latin classical poetry, some yet undis- 
covered metrical element, the proper application of which rendered it more 
melodious to the ear than our rugged accentuation makes it. But the Anglo-Saxon 
system Avas evidently identical with the Icelandic, except that it wanted half and 
whole rhyme ; and Snorri Sturhison — whose very full and complete Icelandic Ai-t 
of Poetry, -^Titten about the middle of the thirteenth century, is still extant — 
does not allude to any characteristic of verse hut alliteration, whole and half, line 
and terminal, rhyme, and accent, though he is very minute in his analysis of all 
the constituents of poetic form. 



304 PIEES PLOUGHMAN Lect. VII. 

and spiritual rulers, not an attempt to awaken their consciences, 
or excite their sympathies, and thus induce them to repent of 
the sins and repair the wrongs they had committed ; nor was 
it an attack upon the theology of the Church of Eome, or a 
revolutionary appeal to the passions of the multitude. It was 
a calm, allegorical exposition of the corruptions of the state, of 
the church, and of social life, designed, not to rouse the people 
to violent resistance or bloody vengeance, but to reveal to them 
the true causes of the evils under which they were suffering, 
and to secure the reformation of those grievous abuses, by a 
united exertion of the moral influence which generally accom- 
panies the possession of superior physical strength. 

The allegory, and more especially the dream or vision, is, in 
the simpler stages of society, and consequently in the early lite- 
rature of most nations, a favourite euphemistic form for the 
announcement of severe, or otherwise disagreeable truths. Its 
capacity of double interpretation might serve as a retreat for 
the dreamer in case of apprehended persecution, and when once 
it had become a common mode of censuring social or political 
grievances, it would continue to be employed by those who no 
longer needed the disguise of equivocal language, merely be- 
cause it was the usual form in which the inferior expressed 
his dissatisfaction with the administration or the corruptions 
of the superior power. 

While, therefore, Wycliffe, at a somewhat later day, assumed 
a posture of open hostility to the papal church, by attacking 
some of the cardinal doctrines on which the supremacy of the 
see of Eome is founded, the Vision of Piers Ploughman had not 
taken so advanced a position. At the same time, it was ex- 
tremely well calculated to suggest opinions which it did not 
itself openly profess ; and the readers, who recognized the truth 
of the pictures of social and ecclesiastical depravity there pre- 
sented, could hardly fail to suspect the necessity of adopting 
some more energetic measures of reform than a mere resort to 
moral suasion. Hence there is no doubt that the Vision, and, 



Lect. VII. PIEES PLOUGHMAN 305 

a few years after, tlie Creed, of Piers Ploughman, — which latter 
is more exclusively directed against the corruptions of the 
Eomish Church, — powerfully aided in promoting the reception 
of the doctrines of Wycliffe, encouraged the circulation of the 
new English versions of the Scriptures, and thus planted, deep 
in the English mind, the germ of that religious revolution 
which was so auspiciously begun and perfected in the sixteenth 
century, as well as of the political reforms which followed, a 
hundred years later. 

I shall not go much into detail in giving a general view of 
the structure of this interesting and remarkable poem. No 
branch of criticism is less generally profitable or instructive 
than that which discusses the plan of literary compositions, 
except in reference to the drama, the special aim of which is the 
exhibition of the entire moral character and internal life of in- 
dividuals, considered as types of humanity in its almost infi- 
nitely varied phases. The exposition of the plan of a work of 
imagination no more helps us to form a conception of the im- 
pression we derive from the production itself, than a description 
of a skeleton would aid us in constructing a visual image of the 
person of a Washington. It is the muscular form, the circu- 
lating fluids, the coloured integuments, that give life and indi- 
viduality to organic objects and to the products of the organized 
fancy; and the actual perusal of a poem is as essential to an 
idea of it as a whole, as the sight of a man to a clear notion of 
his personality. Every primitive, incipient literature is spon- 
taneous and unconscious, not premeditated and critical. In 
this stage of art, or rather of impulsive composition, narrative 
and discursive works of imagination are written without a plan. 
The poem shapes and organizes itself as it grows; and it may 
be remarked that in the majority of cases where authors have 
themselves set forth the scheme and purport of their allegories, 
it has been found difficult, if not impossible, to recognize the 
professed plan in the finished work. 

But to return. The dreamer of the Vision, * weary, for- 



306 THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN Lect. VII. 

wandered/ falls asleep 'on a May morwenynge on Malverne 
liilles,' the poet thus happily suggesting, at the commencement 
of the poem, the cheerful images belonging to the return of 
spring and the beautiful scenery for which that locality is still 
famous. He sees the inhabitants of the earth gathered in a fair 
meadow before him, and observes their various ranks and occu- 
pations, devoting a large part of his description to an account 
of the different orders of the monastic and secular clergy, re- 
ligious mendicants and pilgrims, and depicting in strong 
language their worldliness and depravity. 

I fond there freres, 
Alle the loure ordres, 
Prechynge the peple 
For profit of hemselve ; 
Glosed the gospel, 
. As hem good liked ; 

For coveitise of copes, 
Construwed it as thei wolde. 

This sketch, with the old fable of belling the cat, occupies the 
introduction. In the j&rst section, or Passus, as the writer 
styles it, a heavenly messenger, the personification of 'holi 
chirche,' appears to the dreamer, and bestows explanations, 
warnings and counsels upon him. In the second Passus, he 
observes 'on his left half a woman, who is thus described: — 

I loked on my left half, 
As the lady me tanghte. 
And was war of a womman 
Wortliiliche y-clotlied, 
Pui'filed with j)elure 
The fyneste upon erthe, 
Y-corouncd with a coroune 
The kyng hath noon bettre 
Fetisliche^ hire fyngres 
Were fretted with gold wyr, 



I 



* /etisUche, elegantly, Norman-Frencli, faictissement, from Lat. itxz 



ere. 



Lect, VII. THE VISION OF PIEKS PLOUGHMAN 307 

And theron rede rubies 

As rede as any gleede,^ 

And dianiaundes of derrest pris, 

And double manere saphires, 

Orientals ^ and ewages,^ 

Envenymes^ to destroy e. 

Hire robe was fill riclie, 
Of reed scarlet engreyned, 
With, ribanes of reed gold 
And of riclie stones. 
Hire array me ravysshed, 
Swicli ricliesse saiigh I nevere ; 
I liadde wonder what she was, 
And w^hos Avif she were. 

This lady, as Holy Chircbe informs him, is Mode, or what the 
English Scriptures call lucre, and ^in the popes paleis' is as 
familiar as Holi Chirche herself. His visitor now leaves him, 
and in the remainder of the second, as well as in the third and 
fourth sections, the dreamer observes how all, high and low, 
rich and poor, lay and clergy, alike offer their homage to Mede 
or Lucre, who contracts a legal marriage with Falsehood. In 
the third Passu s, Mede is taken into favour at court, and is much 
caressed by the friars, though her intrigues are sometimes 
thwarted by Conscience, who seems to have greater influence 
with the king than with the priesthood. The- king proposes a 
new matrimonial alliance between Mede and Conscience, to 
which proposal the latter replies : — 



* gleede, burning or glowing coal. ^ oriental, red sapphire. " ewage, defined by 
Wright, mth a query as to its source, * a kind of precious stone,' is the aqua- 
marine, sea-water or green beryl. Eau, in old French, was spelled in a great 
variety of ways, and, among others, eau we, eawe, eaige, and hence ewage, as 
also, notwithstanding its resemblance to the A.-S. huer orhwer, Icel. hverr, 
ewer, a water-vessel. * envenymes to destroye. The ruby, and many other 
precious stones, were worn in the Middle Ages as amulets against poison ; and 
they were believed by many medical men to exert a phj^sical agency, as remedial 
agents, in the healing of wounds, whether from poisoned or unpoisoned weapons. 
Eecipes for the appUcation of them may be found of as late date as the seven- 
teenth century. 



308 THE VISION OP PIEBS PLOUGHMAN Lect. VIL 

Crist it me forbede ! 

Er I wedde swiclie a wif, 

"Wo me bitide ! 

For she is frele of hire feith, 

Fikel of hire speche, 

And maketh men mysdo 

Many score tymes ; 

Trust of hire tresor 

Bitrayeth ful manye. 

He thus proceeds to state Ms objections to the match, at great 
length, bringing out the abuses in Church and State, of which 
Mede, or the love of lucre, is the cause, bu.t finally proposes to 
leave the question to the decision of Eeason. Peace now enters 
upon the scene as a suitor to parliament for redress for griev- 
ances inflicted upon him by Wrong, and Eeason and Conscience 
prevail with the king, who announces his determination to 
govern his realm according to the advice of Eeason. This 
concludes the fourth section and the first vision. 

The dreamer ' waked of his wynkyng ' and attempted to pro- 
ceed on his pilgrimage, but 

wo was withalle 
That [he] ne hadde slept sadder, 
And y-seighen moore. 

Becoming fatigued, he, like many other good Christians before 
and since his time, 

sat softely a-doun, 
And seide his bileve, 
And so he bablede on his bedes, 
Thei broiighte him a-slepe. 

He now has a second vision, in which he again 

seigh the feld ful of folk, 

and Eeason preaching repentance to different classes of offenders, 
each of which is personified by the name of the sin to which it 
is addicted. One of the chief sinners is Coveitise, who, after a 



L£CT. Vir. THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN 309 

long and curious voluntary confession, is subjected to a cross- 
examination by Eepentance. 
The following is an extract : — 

* I have ben coveitous,' quod this caytif, 
* I bi-knowe ^ it here, 

For som tyme I served 
Symme-atte- Style, 
And was his prentice y-plight 
His profit to wayte. 

*■ First I lerned to lye, 
A leef outlier tAveyne ; 
Wikkedly to weye 
Was my firste lesson ; 
To Wy and to Wynchestre 
I wente to the feyre, 
"With many manere marchaimdise, 
As my maister me highte. 
Ne hadde the grace of gyle y-go 
Amonges my chaffare, 
It hadde ben unsold this seven yer, 
So me God helpe ! 

* Thanne drough I me among drapiers, 
My donet^ to lerne. 

To drawe the liser^ along, 

The lenger it semed ; 

Among the riche rayes 

I rendred a lesson, 

To broche hem with a pak-nedlCi 

And playte hem togideres, 

And putte hem in a presse, 

And pyne hem therinne, 

Til ten yerdes or twelve 

Hadde tolled out thrittene. • 

* My wif was a webbe, 
And wollen cloth made ; 
She spak to spynnesteres 

* hi-Jcnowe, confess, Ger. bekennen. ^ donet, a name applied to grammars 
from Donatus, the author of a celebrated Latin accidence and syntax, and, after- 
wards, to any manual of instruction, or set of rules. ' User, selvage. 



310 THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN Lect. VII. 

To spynnen it oute, 
Ac the pound that she paied by 
Peised a quatron moore 
Than myn owene auncer,* 
Who so wejed truthe. 

* I boughte hire barly-malt, 
She brew it to selle, 

Peny ale and piiddyng ale 
She poured togideres, 
For laborers and for lowe folk 
That lay by hymselve. 

* The beste ale lay in my bour, 
Or in my bed-chambre ; 

And who so bummed therof, 

Boughte it therafter, 

A galon for a grote, 

God woot, no lesse ! 

And yet it cam in cuppe-mele, 

This craft my wif used. 

Eose the Regrater 

Was hire righte name; 

She hath holden hukkerye 

Al hire lif tyme. 

Ac I swere now, so thee ik ! 

That synne wol I lete, 

And nevere wikkedly weye, 

Ne wikke chafFare use ; 

But wenden to Walsyngham, 

And my wif als, 

And bidde the Roode of Bromholm 

Brynge me out of dette.' 

* Eepentedestow evere ? ' quod Repentaunce, 

* Or restitucion madest.' 

* Yis 2, ones I was y-herberwed,' quod he, 

* With an heep of chapmen, 
I roos whan thei were a-reste 
And riflede hire males.' 

' auncer, here probably the bowl of a steelyard, or of a pair of scales ; gene- 
rally, a cup. ^ 7/is. This particle, being an answer to a question framed afl&rm- 
atively, is wrongly used for i/ea. See First Series, Lecture XXVI., pp. 679, 583, 



Iect. VII. THE yiSION OF PIEES PLOUGHMAN 311 

* That was no restitucion,' quod Kepentaunce, 

* But a robberis thefte ; 

Thow haddest be the bettre worthi 

Ben hanged therfore, 

Than for al that 

That thow hast here shewed.' 

* I wende riflynge were restitucion,' quod he, 

* For I lerned nevere rede on boke ; 
And I kan no Frensshe, in feith, 

But of the fertheste ende of JSTorthfolk.' 

* Usedestow evere usurie ? ' quod Eepentaunce, 

* In al thi lif tjme.' 

*Nay sothly,' he seide, 

* Save in my youthe 

I lerned among Lumbar des 

And Jewes a lesson, 

To weye pens with a peis,* 

And pare the hevyeste, 

And lene it for love of the cros, 

To legge a wed 2 and lese it. 

Swiche dedes I dide write, 

If he his day breke, 

I have mo manoirs thorugh rerages. 

Than thorugh miseretur et commodat 

* I have lent lordes 

. And ladies my chaffare, 
And ben hire brocour after, 
And bought it my selve; 
Eschaunges and chevysaunces 
With swich chaffare I dele, 
And lene folk that lese wole 
A lippe at every noble, 
And with Lumbardes lettres 3 
I ladde gold to Eome, 
And took it by tale here, 
And tolde hem there lasse.' 

' peis, Fr. poids, weight. ^ j^f,d, pledge. ' Lumhardes leitres, bills 

of exchange. There are some passages in this extract "wliich I do not understand, 
I hope my readers may be more fortunate. 



312 THE VISION OF PIEES PLOUaHMAN Lect. VII, 

* Lentestow evere lordes, 

For love of hire mayntenaunce ? ' 

* Ye, I have lent to lordes, 

Loved me nevere after, 

And have y-maad many a knyght 

Bothe mercer and draper, 

That payed nevere for his prentishode 

Noght a peire gloves.' 

* Hastow pit6 on povere men, 
That mote nedes borwo ? ' 

* I have as muche pite of povere men, 
As pedlere hath of cattes, 

That wolde kille hem, if he cacche hem myghte, 
For coveitise of hir skynnes.' 

* Artow manlich among thi negheborea 
Of thi mete and drynke ? ' 

* I am holden,' quod he, ' as hende 
As hound is in kichene, 
Amonges my neghebores, namely, 
Swiche a name ich have.' 

The multitude of repentant hearers set out on a pilgrimage 
to Truth, under the leadership of a pilgrim who is thus 
described : — 

Ac there was wight noon so wya 
The wey thider kouthe. 
But blustreden forth as beestes 
Over bankes and hilies ; 
Til late was and longe 
That thei a leode * mette, 
Apparailled as a paynym 
In pilgrymes wise. 
He bar a burdoun^ y-bounde 
"With a brood Hste, 
In a withwynde wise 
Y-wounden aboute ; 
A bolle and a bagge 
He bar by his syde, 

* leode, man, person. • burdoim^ staflE 



Lect. VII. THE VISION OF PIEES PLOUGHMAN 313 

And liiindred of ampuUesi 

On his liat seten, 

Signes of Synay, 

And slielles of Galice, 

And many a crouche ^ on his cloke, 

And keyes of Rome, 

And the vernycle bi-fore, 

For men sholde knowe 

And se bi hise signes 

Whom he sought hadde. 

It may be worth remarking, in connection with this descrip- 
tion, which would in many particulars apply to the religious 
mendicants of the East at the present day, whether Moslem or 
Christian, that the different tokens enumerated indicated the 
different shrines or other sacred localities which the pilgrim had 
visited or professed to have visited. The ' shelle of Galice,' or 
cockle-shell, was the proper cognizance of those who had paid 
their vows at the shrine of St. James, at Compostella in Galicia, 
on the coast of which province the cockle-shell abounded ; the 
palm and the cross were worn by those who had worshipped at 
the Holy Sepulchre; the keys of Peter, and the vernycle, or 
painting of the handkerchief of St. Veronica, on which the Sa- 
viour impressed his likeness, when he wiped the sweat from his 
brow with it on his way to Calvary, by those who had been at 
Eome. 

The pilgrim, notwithstanding his experience as a traveller, 
and the sanctity with which his visits to so many sacred localities 
had invested him, proved a blind guide, and the wanderers put 
themselves under the direction of Piers the Ploughman, who 
now, for the first time, appears in the poem. The new guide 
employs them in productive labour, but they become seditious, 
and are at last reduced by the aid of Hunger, who subdues 
Waste, the leader of the revolt, and humbles his followers. 



* ampulles, generally, small phials ; here it seems to mean tokens, ^ CTOUche, 
cross: the modern crutch takes its name from its cross-like form. 



314 THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN Lect. VII. 

The poet here alludes to the effects of a recent famine and 
plague, and sharply satirizes the luxury and extravagance of the 
wealthier classes. The 'pardons' or indulgences of the Pope 
are contemptuously treated, and the pilgrim goes in search of 
* Do-well,' a personification of good works, the true nature of 
which is treated as a difficult question. Wit appears to him and 
describes the residence of Do-well, Do-better, and Do-best, de- 
livering, at the same time, a rambling moral and religious lec- 
ture. For this he is reproved by his wife, Studie, evidently a 
strong-minded dame. 

That lene was of lere, 
And of liche bothe,i 

who takes the words out of his mouth, and, after a long dis- 
course, during which her husband. Wit, 

bicom so confus 
He kouthe noght loke, 
And as doumb as dethe. 
And drough him arere, 

she recommends the Ploughman to her cousin Clergie, for further 
instruction. Clergie gives his pupil a dissertation, in which 
occurs what has been called a prophecy of the dissolution of the 
monasteries by Henry VIII. : — 

And thanne shal the abbot of Abjngdone, 
And al his issue for evere, 
Have a knok of a kyng, 
And incurable the wounde. 

When Clergie concludes, the pilgrim exclaims : — 

This is a long lesson, 
And litel am I the wiser, 

* Lene of lere and of lichc, meagre in doctrine and in person. This is a 
sarcasm against scholastic theology, ^science falsely so called,' as opposed to 
jiructieal, living Christianity. 



Lect. VII. THE VISION OF PIEES PLOUGHMAN 315 

proceeds to reply, at grertt length, and receives a reproof from 
Scripture, for his indocile temper. Then follows another vision, 
in which the dreamer is exposed to the temptations of fortune 
and sensual pleasure, is rescued by Old Age, and falls into a 
meditation on the covetousness of the friars, the doctrine of 
predestination and other religious topics. Nature now carries 
him to a mountain, and shows him how all living creatures, man 
alone excepted, are obedient to the dictates of Eeason, after 
which follows an exhortation from Imaginative, concerning the 
divine punishments, the duties of charity and mercy, and the 
gTeater responsibilities of the learned and the rich. 

Several sections of similar general character follow, in which 
new personifications of virtues, vices, and moral and intellectual 
qualities are introduced. In the eighteenth section, the cha- 
racter of Piers Ploughman is identified with that of the Saviour, 
and the remainder of this section is principally occupied with 
Christ's Passion, his descent into Hell, the rescue of the patri- 
archs and prophets, his resurrection and his final triumph over 
the infernal spirits. We have then the foundation of the visible 
Church, the opposition t)f worldly men and princes, and an attack 
of Antichrist on the Church. Afterwards, the Castle of Unity, 
the strong-hold of the Church, is assailed by an army of priests 
and monks, and Conscience, the governor of the castle, is driven 
out, and goes in quest of the Ploughman, when the dreamer 
awakes. 

The movement of the poem is, to a considerable extent, dia- 
logistic, and in these portions the dialect is evidently colloquial, 
though the characters are not sufficiently individualized to give 
the performance much of dramatic effect; but it seems ex- 
tremely well calculated to influence the class for whose use it 
was chiefly intended, and the success it met with sufficiently 
proves that, in spite of its Latin quotations, it was, in the main, 
well suited to their comprehension. 

Although, as I have before remarked, the proportion of words 
of foreio;n origin in the vocabulary of Piers Ploughman is as 



316 THE VISION OF PIEES PLOUGHMAN Lect. VIL 

great as in Chaucer, yet the structure of the dialect is more 
archaic, and there are many words which are now obsolete, as 
well as a considerable number the meaning of which is alto- 
gether unknown. But there is no such difference in the stock 
of words, or in the syntactical combinations of the two authors, 
as to create a marked dialectic distinction between them, and 
they are hardly more unlike than the style and diction of two 
English writers of the present day, who should treat themes 
and address audiences so different as those of Chaucer and 
Langlande. 

The moods and tenses of the verb had acquired very nearly 
their present force, and the past and future auxiliaries were 
used substantially as in modern English. I mention this point 
particularly, because it has been said that the curious and intri- 
cate distinction we now make between the two auxiliaries, 
shall and will, is of recent origin. Cases may indeed be found 
in Piers Ploughman, where shall is used in a connection that 
would, in modern usage, require ivill, but these are few, and 
some of them doubtful ; and I have observed no case where 
%vill is put for the modern shall. 

The verbs are inflected much according to the Anglo-Saxon 
fashion, the ending th characterizing not only the third person 
singular, present indicative, but all the persons of the plural of 
that mood and tense, as well as the imperative. The infinitive 
generally ends in en, as does also the plural of the past tense, 
and both the weak and strong form of conjugation are employed. 
To all these rules there are exceptions, and the poet seems to 
have been influenced much by rhythm in the conjugation of his 
verbs. 

The nouns, with few exceptions, form the plural in s, and the 
adjective plural usually terminates in e, but the declension of 
this part of speech is irregular. 

The return to the Saxon conjugation of the verbs, which, as 
we have seen, had been much disturbed, is curious, as an 
exemplification of the reactionary tendency I have mentioned ; 



Lect. VII. THE VISION OF PIEES PLOUGHMAN 317 

and the influence of Piers Ploughman, or of the spirit by which 
that work was animated, was strong enough to keep this revived 
inflection current until after the time of Chaucer. 

There is, in general, much care and precision in the use of 
words, which seem often to be employed with an intelligent re- 
ference to their derivative history, and, in some instances, they 
are explained by a direct statement of their descent. The ety- 
mology of the word heathen from heath, as implying the rude 
and uncivilized inhabitants of wild and unreclaimed territory, is 
curious, and it has appeared as original in more than one later 
linguistic work. The whole passage is as follows : — 

' Clootli that cometh fro the wevyng 
Is noght comly to were, 
Til it be fulled under foot ' , 



il '■ 



Or in fullyng stokkes, „ -■■''%[ 

"Wasshen wel with water, 

And with taseles cracched, 

Y-tonkedi ^nd y-teynted,^ 

And under taillours hande ; 

Right so it fareth by a barn, 

That born is of a wombe, 

Til it be cristned in Cristes name, 

And confermed of the bisshope, 

It is hethene as to hevene-ward, 

And help-lees to the soule. 

Hethen is to niene after heeth 

And untiled erthe, 

As in wilde wildernesse, 

Wexeth wilde beestes, 

Eude and unresonable, 

Eennynge withouten cropiers.' 

Piers Ploughman, although allegorical in its plan, and di- 
dactic in its aims, gives us more minute and intimate views of 
the material and social life of that age, than almost any poetical 

' y-touJced, dyed. * y-teynkd, stretclied on tenters. 



318 THE YISION OF PIEES PLOUGHMAN Lect. VII. 

work in early Englisli literature. We have glimpses at the con- 
dition, and even the dress and nutriment, of the labouring 
classes, the processes of the arts, the frauds of artisans and 
dealers, the corruptions in the administration of justice, the rela- 
tions between the clergy and the people, and, in short, at all those 
circumstances which made up the actualities of English life in 
the fourteenth century; and hence, though it deals with no 
questions of chronology, this poem is a contribution of some 
value to the domestic history of the English nation. 

The following passages are of the character just indicated: — 

quod Hunger, 

* Hennes ne wole I wende, 
Til I have dyned bi this day, 
And y-dronke bothe.' 

* I have no peny,' quod Piers, 

* Pulettes to bugge,! 

Ne neither gees ne grys,^ 

But two grene cheses, 

A fewe cruddes and creme, 

And an haver ^ cake, 

And two loves of benes and bran, 

Y-bake for my fauntes;^ 

And yet I seye, by my soule ! 

I have no salt bacon, 

Ne no cokeney, ^ by Crist ! 

Coloppes for to maken. 

* Ac I have percile and porettes, 
And manye cole plauntes, 

And ek a cow and a calf, 

And a cart mare 

To drawe a-feld my donge, 

The while the droghte lasteth ; 

And by this liflode we mote lyve 

Til Lamm esse tyme. 

And by that, I hope to have 

Hervest in my crofte, 

' hugge, "buy. ^ g^-yg^ pjgg^ 3 jiaver, oatmeal. * fauntes, serrants, 

• eokeney^ Wright thinks, a lean fowL 



liECT. "^11. TEE VISION OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN 319 

And tlianne may I dighte thi dyner, 
As me deere liketh.' 

Al the povere peple tho 
Pescoddes fatten, 
Benes and baken apples 
Thei broglite in hir lappes, 
Chibolles and cliervelles, 
And ripe cliiries manye, 
And profrede Piers this present 
To plese with Hunger. 

Al Hunger eet in haste, 
And axed after moore. 
Thanne povere folk, for fere, 
Fedden Hunger yerne, 
With grene porret and pesen 
To poisone hym thei thoghte. 
By that it neghed neer hervest, 
And newe corn cam to chepyng ;' 
Thanne was folk fayn, 
And fedde Hunger with the beste. 
With goode ale, as Gloton taghte, 
And garte Hunger go slepe. 

And tho wolde Wastour noght werche, 
But wandren aboute, 
Ne no beggere ete breed 
That benes inne were, 
But of coket and cler-matyn,^ 
Or ellis of clene whete ; 
Ne noon halfpeny ale 
In none wise drynke, 
But of the beste and of the brunneste • 
That in burghe is to selle. 

Laborers that have no land 
To lyve on but hire handes, 
Deyned noght to dyne a day 
Nyght-olde wortes j 
May no peny ale hem paye, 
Ne no pece of bacone, 

chepyng^ market. ^ coTcet and cUr-matyn, finer kinds of bread, • hrun^ 
neste, "brownest, richest with malt. 



320 THE VISION OP PIEES PLOUGmiAN Lect. VII. 

But if it be fresshe flessli outlier fissLe, 
Fryed outher y-bake, 
And that chaud and plus ckaudj 
For chillynge of hir mawe. 

Verses 4357—4424. 

Nought to fare as a fithelere or a frere, 

For to seke festes 

Homliche at othere mennes houses^ 

And hatien hir owene. 

Elenge ^ is the halle 

Ech day in the wike, 

Ther the lord ne the lady 

Liketh noght to sitte. 

Now hath ech riche a rule 

To eten by hymselve 

In a pryvee parlour, 

For povere mennes sake, 

Or in a chambre with a chymenee, 

And leve the chief halle 

That was maad for meles, 

Men to eten inne, 

And al to spare to spende 

That spille shal another. 

Verses 5791^5808. 

Thanne Pacience perceyved 
Of pointes of this cote. 
That were colomy ^ thorugh coveitise 
And unkynde desiryng ; 
Moore to good than to God 
The gome 3 his love caste, 
And ymagynede how 
He it myghte have 
With false mesures and met,* 
And with fals witnesse ; 
Lened^ for love of the wed,^ 
And looth to do truthe ; 

' elencfe, sad, melancholy, modern ailing. - colomy, meaning unknown. 

■ ffome, man. * met, measuiing. * lened, lent. " wed, pledge. 



Lbct. VII. THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUaHMAN 321 

And awaited tliorugh which 

"Wey to bigile, 

And menged ^ his marchaundise, 

And made a good moustre ; ^ 

* The worste withinne was, 

A greet wit I let it, 

And if my neghebore hadde any hyne,^ 

Or any beest ellis, 

Moore profitable than myn, 

Manye sleightes I made 

How I myghte have it, 

Al my wit I caste. 

And but I it hadde by oother wey, 

At the laste I stale it ; 

Or priveliche his purs shook, 

And unpikede hise lokes ; 

Or by nyghte or by daye 

Aboute was ich evere, 

Tliorugh gile to gaderen 

The good that ich have. 

* If I yede to the plowgh, 
I pynched so narwe. 
That a foot lend or a forow 
Fecchen I wolde 
Of my nexte neghebore, 
And nymen of his erthe. 
And if I repe, over-reche, 
Of yaf hem reed"* that ropen* 
To seise to me with hir sikel 
That I ne sew^ nevere. 

' And who so borwed of me, 
A-boughte the tyme 
With presentes prively, 
Or paide som certeyn ; 
So he wolde or noght wolde, 
"Wynnen I wolde. 
And bothe to kith and to l^yn 
Unkynde of that ich hadde. 

* menged, mixed, "bad with good. ^ moustre, sample, or perhaps show, ctm- 
ning arrangement so as to hide defects. ' hyne^ servant. * reed^ directions. 
• roioei% reaped. ^ sev), sowed. 



322 THE VISION OP PIEES PLOUaHMAN Lect. VII. 

* And who so cheped my chaiFare, 
Chiden I wolde, 
But lie profrede to paie 
A peny or tweyne 
Moore than it was worth; 
And yet wolde I swere 
That it coste me muche moore, 
And so swoor manye othes.' 

Verses 8737—8795. 

Barons and burgeises, 
And bonde-men als, 
I seigh in this assemblee, 
As ye shul here after : 
Bahsteres and brewesteres^ 
And bochiers manye ; 
Wollen webb esters, 
And weveres of lynnen, 
Taillonrs and tynkers, 
And tollers in markettes, 
Masons and mynonrs, 
And many othere crailes. 
Of alle kynne lybbynge laborers 
Lopen^ forth somme, 
As dikeres and delveres, 
That doon hire dedes ille, 
That dryveth forth the longe day 
With Dieu save dame Emme, 

Cokes and hire knaves 
Cryden '• Hote pies, hote I 
Goode gees and grys ! 
Gowe, dyne, gowe ! ' 

Taverners until hem 
Trewely tolden the same, 
Whit wyn of Oseye, 
And reed "w^n of Gascoigne, 
Of the Eyn and of the Eochel, 
The roost to defie.2 

Verses 430—457. 

' Uypen, ran. * defie, digest 



Lect, VII. THE VISION OP PIERS PLOUGHMAN 323 

Langlande seems to have shared in the popular prejudice 
under which the profession of law has always laboured. He 
thus satirizes the bar : — 

Yet liovedi tlier an Imndred 

In howves^ of selk, 

Sergeantz it bi-semed 

That serveden at the barre, 

Pleteden for penyes 

And poundes the lawe ; 

And noglit for love of our Lord 

Unlose hire lippes ones. 

Thow myghtest bettre meete myst 

On Malverne hHles, 

Than gete a mom of hire mouth, 

Til moneie be shewed. 

Verses 418—429. 

In the third passus. Mode's confessor proposes to her to secure 
her salvation by giving his church a painted window, to which 
she assents : — 

Thanne he assoiled hire soone, 
And sithen he seide : 

* We have a wyndow in werchynge 
Wole sitten us ful hye, 
Woldestow glaze that gable 

And grave therinne thy name, 
Syker sholde thi soule be 
Hevene to have.' 

Verses 1449—1456. 

* Have mercy,' quod Mede, 

* Of men that it haunteth, 
And I shal covere youre kirk, 
Youre cloistre do maken, 
Wowes^ do whiten, 

And wyndowes glazen, 

* hoved,\7Siitcd, * 7iowt>^5, hoods or caps. I WbweSy'wsSls, 



324 THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN Lect. VII. 

Do peynten and portraye, 
And paie for the makynge, 
That every segge^ shal seye 
I am suster of youre house/ 

Upon this the Pilgrim observes : — 

Ac God to alle good folk 

Swich gravynge defendeth, 

To writen in wyndowes 

Of hir wel dedes. 

* * * ♦ 

Lat noght thi left half 
Late ne rathe 
Wite what thow werchest 
With thi right syde ; 
For thus by the gospel 
Goode men doon hir almesse. 

Verses 1483—1507. 

The author exhibits a liberality towards the Jews rarely met 
with in that age : — 

Sholde no cristene creature 

Cryen at the yate, 

Ne faille payn ne potage, 

And prelates dide as thei sholden. 

A Jew wolde noght se a Jew 

Go janglyng for defaute, 

For alle the mebles on this moold^ 

And he amende it myghte. 

AUas! that a cristene creatui'e 

Shal be unkynde til another ; 

Syn Jewes, that we jugge 

Judas felawes, 

Eyther of hem helpeth oother 

Of that that hem nedeth. 

Whi nel we cristene 

Of Cristes good be as kynde 

As. Jewes, that ben cure lores-men. 

Verses 5318—5337. 

I i^gg^i man. 



liECT. VII. THE VISION OP PIEES PLOUGHMAN 326 

The following passage on the degeneracy of bcth nature and 

man is striking : — 

' And so it fareth by som folk now, 
Thei han a fair speche, 
Crowne and cristendom, 
The kynges mark of hevene ; 
Ac the metal, that is mannes soul©, 
With synne is foiile alayed. 
Bothe lettred and lewed 
Beth alayed now with synne, 
That no hf loveth oother 
Ne oure Lord, as it semeth. 
For thorugh werre and wikkede werkes^ 
And wederes unresonable, 
Weder-wise shipmen, 
And witty clerkes also, 
Han no bileve to the lifte, i 
Ne to the loore of philosofrea. 

* Astronomiens al day 
In hir art faillen, 

That whilom warned bifore 
What sholde falle after. 

* Shipmen and shepherdes, 
That with ship and sheep wenten, 
Wisten by the walkne^ 

What sholde bitide, 

As of wedres and wyndes 

Thei warned men ofte. 

' Tnieris, that tiled the erthe, 
Tolden hir maistres, 
By the seed that thei sewe, 
What thei selle myghte, 
And what to lene, and what to lyve by^ 
The lond was so trewe. 

'Now faileth the folk of the flood, 
And of the lond bothe, 
Shepherdes and shipmen, 
And so do thise tilieris, 

« Uffe, sky, signs of weather. * walTcnef clouds, mlMn, 



326 THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUaHMAN Lect. VII. 

Neither thei konneth ne knoweth 
Oon cours bifore another. 

* Astronomyens also 
Aren at hir wittes ende, 

Of that was calctiled of the element 

The contrarie thei fynde ; 

Grammer, the ground of al, 

Bigileth now children, 

For is noon of this newe clerkes, 

Who so nymeth hede, 

Naught oon among an hundred , 

That an auctour kan construwe, 

Ne rede a lettre in any langage 

But in Latin or in Englissh.' 

Verses 10,326—10,375. 
Also the following: — 

For Sarzens han somwhat 
Semynge to oure bileve ; 
For thei love and bileve 
In o persone almyghty ; 
And we, lered and lewed, 
In oon God almyghty ; 
And oon Makometh, a man, 
Li mysbileve broughte 
Sarzens of Surree, 
And see in what manere. 

* This Makometh was a cristene 
And for he moste noght ben a pope 
Into Surrie he soughte, 

And thorugh hise sotile wittes 

He daunted ^ a dowve, 

And day and nyght hire fedde, 

The com that she croppede 

He caste it in his ere ; 

And if he among the peple preched, 

Or in places come, 

Thanne wolde the colvere^ come 

To the clerkes ere 

, * daunted, tamed. • cohere, doTtw 



Lect. VIL THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUaHMAN 327 

Menynge as after mete, — 

Thus Makometli hire enchatintede ; 

And dide folk thanne falle on knees, 

For he swoor in his prechyng 

That the colvere that com so, 

Com from. God of hevene, 

As messager to Makometh, 

Men for to teche. 

And thus thorugh wiles of his wit, 

And a whit dowve, 

Makometh in mysbileve 

Men and wommen broughte ; 

That lyved tho there and lyve yit 

Leeven ^ on hise lawes. 

* And siththe our Saveour suffred, 
The Sarzens so bigiled 
Thorugh a cristene clerk, 
Acorsed in his soule ! 
For drede of the deeth 
I dare noght telle truthe, 
How Englisshe clerkes a colvere fede 
That coveitise highte, 
And ben manered after Makometh, 
That no man useth trouthe.' 

Verses 10,408—10,453. 

I have dwelt the longer upon the Vision of Piers Ploughman, 
because I think justice has never been done to its great merits 
— which can be appreciated only by careful study — and to its 
importance in the literary history of England. Although Wright 
has rendered an excellent service by making this poem accessible, 
and in the main intelligible, to common readers, much labour 
ought still to be bestowed upon it. A scrupulously literal re- 
production of the best manuscripts, with various readings from 
all the copies, is needed ; and few old English authors better 
deserve, or will better repay the careful attention of English 
scholarship. 

The Creed of Piers Ploughman, which appeared, as is supposed, 

* leeveti, believe. 



328 THE CREED OF PIERS PLOUaHJIAN Lect. VII. 

twenty or thirty years after the Vision, may or may not be a 
work of the same author. The style and diction are much the 
same, but the later work is more exclusively theological, and 
graver in tone, and it shows an advance upon the opinions of 
the earlier poem, harmonizing more unequivocally with the 
views of WyclifFe and the Eeformers of his school, but it does 
not seem to have ever obtained the wide currency and influence 
of its predecessor. 

The general character of this work will sufficiently appear 
from these passages : — 

Than thought I to frayne^ the first 
Of this foure ordres ; 
And presed to the Prechoures, 
To proven her wille. 
Ich highed to her house, 
To herken of more ; 
And when I came to that court, 
I gaped aboute, 
Swich a bild^ bold 
Y-buld upon erthe heighte 
Say I nought in certeyn 
Sytlithe a long tyme. 
I semed opon that hous, 
And yerne theron loked, 
Whow the pileres weren y-paint> 
And pulchud^ ful clene, 
And queyntly y-corven 
With curious knottes ; 
With wyndowes wel y-wrought, 
Wyde up a-lofte, 
And thanne I entred in, 
And even forth wente ; 
And al was walled that wono, 
Though it wiid were, 
With posternes in privite 
To pasen when hem liste ; 
Orcheyardes and erberes 

* fra^ne, inquire of. ^ bild, building, • pulckud, polished. 



Lect. VII. the cbeed op piers ploughman 329 

Evesedi wel clene, 

And a curious cros 

Craftly entayled, 

With tabernacles y-tight* 

To toten^ al abouten. 

Tlie pris of a plough-lond 

Of penies so rounde 

To aparaile that pyler 

"Were pure litel. 

Than I munte^ me forth 

The mynstre to knowen, 

And awaytede a woon^ 

Wonderly wel y-bild, 

With arches on everiche hal^ 

And bellyche y-corven, 

With crochetes on comeres, 

With knottes of gold, 

Wyde wyndowes y-'vvi'ought, 

Y- wry ten fui thikke, 

Shynen with shapen sheldes, 

To shewen aboute, 

With merkes of merchauntes 

Y-medeled betwene, 

Mo than twentie and two 

T-\vyse y-noumbbred. 

Ther is non heraud that hath 

Half swich a rolle, 

Eight as a rageman 

Hath rekned hem newe. 

Tombes upon tabernacles 

Tylde opon lofle, 

Housed in homes, 

Harde set abouten, 

Of armede alabaustre 

Clad for the nones, 



' evescd, should mean proyided with eave-troughs, perhaps, here, sheltered with 
arhours, roofs, or awnings. ^ y-tight, furnished. ^ tabernacles .... tO' 
ten; toten is to look, and the phrase means helvedereSy look-out towers. ■* muntef 
from minnen, to he minded, to incline. * awaytede a woon, observed a dwelling 
or house. 



330 THE CREED OP PIERS PLOUGHMAN Lect. VIL 

Maad opon marbel 
In many manner wyse, 
- Knjglites in ther conisante 
Clad for the nones ; 
AUe it semed seyntes 
Y-sacred opon erthe ; 
And lovely ladies y-wrought 
Leyen by her sydes 
In manye gay garnemens, 
That weren gold beten. 
Though the tax of ten yere 
Were trewely y-gadered, 
Nolde it nought maken that hous 
Half, as I trowe. 
Than cam I to that cloystre, 
And gaped abouten, 
Whough it was pilered and peynt, 
And portreyed wel clene, 
Al y-hyled with leed 
Lowe to the stones, 
And y-paved with poynttyl 
Ich point after other ; 
"With cundites of clene tyn 
Closed al aboute, 
With lavoures of latun 
Loveliche y-greithed. 
I trowe the ga3niage of the ground 
In a gret shyre 
Nold aparaile that place 
Oo poynt tyl other ende. 
Thanne was that chapitre house 
Wrought as a greet chirche, 
Corven and covered, 
. And queyntelyche entayled, 
With semliche selure ^ 
Y-seet on lofte, 
As a parlement-hous 
Y-peynted aboute. 
Thanne fe.rd I into fi-aytoure, 

^ 9€lure, ceHmg. ... ^ 



Lect. VIL the CEEED op piers PLOUaHMAN 331 

And fond there another, 
An halle for an hygh kynge 
An houshold to holden, 
With brode hordes abouten 
Y-benched wel clene, 
With "svyndowes of glaas 
Wrought as a chirche 
Than walkede I ferrer, 
And went al abouten, 
And seigh ha]les full heygh, 
And houses ful noble, 
Chambres with chymeneys, 
And chapeles gaye, 
And kychenes for an high kynge 
In casteles to holden ; 
And her dortoure y-dight 
With dores ful stronge ; 
Fermerye and fraitur, ^ 
With fele mo houses. 
And al strong ston wal 
Sterne upon heithe, 
With gaye garites^ and grete, 
And iche hole y-glased. 
And other houses y-nowe 
To herb er we the queene. 
And yet thise bilderes wiln beggen 
A bagge ful of whete 
Of a pure pore man. 
That may onethe paye 
Half his rent in a yere, 
And half ben byhynde. 
Than turned I ayen. 
Whan I hadde all y-toted, 
And fond in a freitoure 
A frere on a benche, 
A greet chorl and a grym, 



Growen as a tonne. 
With a face so fat 



fraitur, refectory. ^ garites, perhaps garrets, but I think more prohably 



turrets, or pinnacles. 



332 THE CREED OP PIERS PLOUGHMAN Lect. VIL 

As a fill bleddere 

Blowen bretful of breth, 

And as a bagge honged 

On bothen his cliekes, and his chyn 

With a chol loUede 

So greet as a gos ey, 

Growen al of grece ; 

That al wagged his fleish 

As a quick myre. 

His cope, that bi-clypped hym, 

"Wei clene was it folden, 

Of double worstede y-dyght 

Doun to the hele. 

His kyrtel of clene whiit, 

Clenlyche y-sewed, 

Hit was good y-now of ground 

Greyn for to beren. 

I haylsede ^ that hirdman, 

And hendlich I sayde, 

* Gode sire, for Godes love ! 

Canstou me gi-aith tellen 

To any worthely wiight 

That wissen me couthe, 

Whow I shulde conne my Crede, 

Christ for to folwe, 

That levede^ lelliche^ hymselfe 

And lyvede therafter, 

That feynede no falshede, 

But fuUy Christ suwede ? 

For sich a certeyn man 

Syker wold I trosten, 

That he wolde telle me the trewthe, 

And turne to non other. 

And an Austyn"* this ender day 

Egged me faste ; 

That he wolde techen we wel, 

He plyght me his treuthe, 

And seyde me ' certeyn, 

» haylsede, saluted. * levede, belicTed. • Miches loyally, lawfully, 

* AustyUy Augustine friar. 



LeCT. VII. THE CREED OF PIEES PLOUGHMAN 333 

Syglithen Christ dejed 
Oure ordre was euelles 
And erst y-founde.' 

* First, felawe,' quath he, 
* Fy on his pilche ! ^ 
He is but abortiif, 
Eked -with cloutes, 
He holdeth his ordynannce 
"With hores and theves, 
And purchaseth hem pryvylege8 
With penyes so ronnde. 
It is a pur pardoners craft, 
Prove and asay ; 
I'or have they thy money, 
A moneth therafter 
Certes, theigh thou come agen, 
He wil the nought knowen. 
But, felawe, oure foundement 
Was first of the o there, 
And we ben founded fulliche 
Withouten fayntise. 
And we ben clerkes y-cnowen, 
Cunnyng in schole, 
Proved in processyon 
By processe of lawe. 
Of oure order ther beth 
Bichopes wel manye, 
Seyntes on sundri stedes 
That suffreden harde ; 
And we ben proved the priis 
Of popes at Eome, 
And of grettest degre 
As godspelles telleth.' 

Lines 303—512. 

The Pilgrim, who had already consulted a Minorite, visits, in 
turn, the two remaining orders : the Austyns or Augustins and 
the Carmelites, who abuse the ^ Prechours ' and the * Minours ' 
as heartily as they had been censured by them. He then falls 

^ pilche, fiir, or long napped cloth, cloak. 



334 POEM ON EICHAED II. Lect. VII. 

in with Piers Plougliman^ who exposes the corruptions of mon- 
astic life, and dismisses the Pilgrim after having taught him a 
Creed substantially conforming to that called ' the Apostles'.' 

Another poem of similar metrical structure, but of exclusively 
political character, is the alliterative allegory on the abuses of 
the reign of Eichard II., and his intended deposition. This is 
an imitation of the style and manner of Piers Ploughman, and 
is not without point and spirit. The dialect remains the same, 
substantially, though, while the vocabulary is more modern, the 
grammar is, ia some respects, more archaic. It is a matter of 
some interest to observe that it contains many nautical phrases, 
used with a familiarity quite new to English literature, and 
which shows that the increasing navigation and foreign com- 
merce of England were beginning to exert an appreciable 
influence on the dialect of books as well as of ordinary speech. 

The passage into which most of these phrases are introduced 
is, for the period, almost unique in its character, and as several 
of the technical terms employed in it here occur, for the first 
time, in English, it may be worth citing, though perhaps not 
clearly intelligible to mere landsmen : — * 

and somme Avere so ffers 
at the ffrist come, 
that they bente on a bonet, 
and bare a topte saile 
affor the Avynde fFresshely, 

* In tlie Glossarial Eemarks and Emendations, Layamon III. 476, Sir F. 
Madden quotes these lines from a manuscript whicli lias never been printed : — 
Then he tron on the trees, and thay her tramme reechen ; 
Cachen vp the crossayl, cables thay casten ; 
"Wijt at the wyndas weren her ankres, 
Sprude spak to the sprete, the spare bawe-lyne ; 
Gederen to the gyde-ropes, the grete cloth falles ; 
Thay layden in on ladde borde, and the lofe Wynnes ; 
The blythe brethe at her bak, the bosum he fyndes ; 
He swenges me thys swete schip swefte fro the hauen. 

Is ladde borde the primitive form of larboard ? If so, it is a step towards the 
etymology of that obscure word. 



Lect. VIL the complaint of the ploughman 335 

to make a good iFare. 

Than lay the lordis alee 

with laste and with charge, 

and bare aboujte the barge, 

and blamed the maister, 

that knewe not the kynde cours 

that to the crafte longid, 

and warned him wisely 

of the wedir side. 

Thanne the maste in the myddis, 

at the monthe ende, 

bowid fFor brestynge, 

and broujte hem to lond ; 

fFor ne had thei striked a strake, 

and sterid hem the better, 

and abated a bonet, 

or the blast come, 

they had be throwe overe the borde, 

backewarde ichonne. 

The volume of Political Poems and Songs from which the 
above lines are taken contains an irregularly alliterative poem, 
in eight-lined stanzas, called the Complaint of the Ploughman. 
This was formerly ascribed to Chaucer, and exists in no earlier 
form than in printed editions of the fifteenth century, although 
it probably belongs, as originally writteu, to the reign of 
Richard II. It is a satire on the abuses of Church and State, 
but is worthy neither of the name it claims nor of the author 
to whom it has been attributed. 

I am not acquainted with any poem resembling Piers Plough- 
man in poetic form, of later date than the fourteenth century, 
which is worthy of notice, though there were several attempts 
at imitation of this rhythm and metre in subsequent ages. 

I have already adverted to the remarkable circumstance, that, 
though many political songs and satires of the preceding cen- 
tury, of a popular cast, were in English, a large proportion of 
the most important poems of this class in the reign of Edward 
III. were in French or in Latin. 



336 POLITICAL POETRY Lect. VIL 

This may probably be explained by the fact, that many of 
them relate to events or measures of policy, the connection of 
which with the material well-being of the commonalty was not 
very obvious, and which therefore did not much excite the 
interest of the English-speaking people, but appealed rather to 
the passions, the opinions, the principles of the governing 
classes, who were generally, no doubt, better instriicted in 
written French and Latin than in the native tongue. 

These classes, indeed, at the period we are now treating of, 
certainly sjpoke English habitually, but they had not cultivated 
it as a governmental or official organ of communication, and it 
was therefore essentially unfit for the discussion of political 
subjects. Such topics found much better vehicles in Latin and 
in French, which latter tongue, as we have seen, had gradually 
been trained up to a power of expression that had enabled it to 
compete with Latin as a learned and universal speech. 

Froissart, in describing his presentation of a volume of his 
poems to Eichard IL, observes, as a noteworthy circumstance, 
that the King ^ loked in it and reed yt in many places, for he 
coulde speke and rede French very well;' and in the same 
paragraph he mentions Henry Castyde, an English squire, as an 
' honest man and a wyse, and coud well speke Frenche.' * But 
the same chronicler informs us that the negotiations for the 
peace of 1393 were conducted in French, and that the English 
commissioners were much embarrassed by their want of a know- 
ledge of the niceties and subtleties of that language. 

* • Than the kynge desyred to se my booke that I had Lrought for hym ; so he 
sawe it in his chambre, for I had layde it there redy on his bedde. Whaune the 
kyngQ opened it, it pleased hym well, for it was fayre enlumyned and written, and 
couered with crymson veluet, with ten botons of sylueraud gylte, and roses of 
golde in the myddes, ^^th two great elapses gjdte, rychely wroughte. Than the 
kyng demaunded me whereof it treated, and I shewed hym how it treated maters 
of loue ; wherof the kynge was gladdeand loked in it, and reedyt in many places, 
for he coulde speke and rede French very well ; and he tooke yt to a knyght of hys 
chambre, named Syr Bicharde Creadon, to beare it into hys secrete chambre.' — 
Lord Berners's Froissart, chap, cxcviii Eeprint of 1812, vol. n., chap. ccii. 
p. 619. 



Lect. Vir. USE OF FRENCH IN ENGLAND 337 

* The englyssliemen,' says he, ' had moche payne to here and to 
vnderstaude the frenchemen, who vrere full of suhtyle wordes, and 
cloked perswacions and double of vnderstandynge, the Avhiclie the 
frenchemen wolde tourne as they lyst to their profyte and aduanntage, 
■\vhiche englysshenien vse nat in their langage, for their speche and 
entent is playne ; and also the englisshmen were enfourmed that the 
Frenchemen had nat alwayes vpholden the artycles, promyses and con- 
dycyons, ratyfied in tlie artycles of peace; yet the frenchmen Avolde 
ever fynde one poj^ite or other in their writynges, by some subtyle 
cloked worde, aifermynge that the englysshemen had broken the peace, 
and nat they ; wherfore Avhan the englysshemen saAve or herde in the 
frenchemens writynges any darke or cloked worde, they made it to be 
examyned by such as were profoundly lerncd in the lav/e, and if they 
founde it amysse, they caused it to be eanselled and amended, to the 
entent they wolde leaue nothynge in trouble ; and the englysshmen, to 
excuse themselfe, wolde say, that frenchemen lernynge such subtylties 
in their youth muste nedes be more subtyle than they.'* 

The poems which we have now been considering, and others 
of minor importance, though of kindred spirit, contributed their 
share to the extension of the English vocabulary, to the flexi- 
bility of the syntax, and to the various culture of the English 
people, and thus prepared the speech and the nation for the re- 
ception of the controversial writings and the scriptural versions 
of the Wycliffite school, the influence of which on the language 
and literature of England will be examined in the next lec- 
ture. 

NOTE ON THE ITALIAN DIALECTS. 

It is difficult for Englishmen and Anglo-Americans, who habitually 
speak much as they -write, and write much as they speak, to conceive 
of the co-existence of two dialects in a people, one almost uniformly 
employed in conversation, the other almost as exclusively in writing. 
Yet such was the state of things in England, from the Conquest at 
least to the middle of the fourteenth century, and such is the case in 
a large part of Europe at this day. In Italy, for instance, there is 
almtDsfc everywhere a popidar speech, commonly employed by all classes 

* Lord Berners's Froissart, cliap. cxcv., reprint of 1812, voL ii. pp. 599, 600. 
See note on Italian dialects at the end of this lecture. 



338 ITALIA JNf DIALECTS Lect. VII, 

in familiar oral intercourse, and so far cultivated that it can be, though it 
rarely is, written, while, at the same time, the lingua comune d' Ita- 
lia, or, as it is often called, the Tuscan dialect, is known to all, as the 
language of books, of journals, and of correspondence, and is also em- 
ployed as the medium of religious and scholastic instruction. But this 
literary tongue, at least in those parts of Italy where dialects widely 
diiferent from it are habitually spoken, always remains to the Italians 
themselves essentially a foreign language. This fact Biondelli states in 
stronger terms than a prudent stranger would venture to do upon the 
testimony of his own observation. ' Tanto e vero che, per parlare e 
scrivere italianamente, dobbiamo imparare questa nostra lingua con 
lunghi e laboriosi studj, poco meno che se apprendessimo la latina o la 
francese ; e a malgrado dell' affinita sua coi nostri dialetti e del con- 
tinuo leggere, scrivere e parlare 1' italiano, ben pochi giungono a trattarlo 
come conviensi, e grandi e frequenti sono le diiTiculta che incontriamo 
ogniqualvolta vogliamo esporre con chiarezza e proprieta le nostre idee, 
poiche veramente dobbiamo tradun-e il nostro dialetto in altra lingua, 
vale a dire, rappresentare sotto diversa forma i nostri pensieri.' — Bion- 
delli, Saggio sui Dialetti Gallo-Italici, x. 

There is a similar discrepancy between the written and spoken lan- 
guage in many parts of Germany, though the diffusion of literary cul- 
ture in that country has made the dialect of books more universally 
familiar than in most European nations. The traveller Seetzen, whose 
journals have lately been published, sometimes makes entries in them 
in the Platt-Deutsch of his native province, and states expressly that 
lie uses that dialect in order that those passages may not be understood 
by strangers into whose hands his papers might chance to fall. 



LECTUEE VIIL 

WYCLIFFE AND HIS SCHOOL. 

We come iiow Ui a period when far other necessities than those 
of imaginative literature, of mechanical or decorative art, or of 
any interest of material life, demanded the formation of a new 
special nomenclature — a nomenclature and a phraseology, which, 
though first employed in a limited range of themes and dis- 
cussions, yet, from the intimate relation of those themes to all 
the higher aspirations of humanity, gradually acquired more 
extended significance and more varied applications, and finally 
became, in great part, incorporated into the general speech as 
a new enlivening and informing element. 

I refer to the theological vocabulary of Wycliffe and his dis- 
ciples, which, in a considerable proportion indeed, was composed 
of words already familiar to the clergy and the better instructed 
laity, but which those reformers popularized, and at the same 
time enlarged and modified, by new terms coined or borrowed 
for use in their translations of the Scriptures, and by imposing 
on already known words new, or at least special acceptations. 

The Anglo-Saxons possessed a vernacular translation of the 
Grospels, and of some other parts of the Bible ; and several 
more or less complete versions of the Scriptures existed in 
French as early as the twelfth century. But there is no reason 
to believe that any considerable portion of the Bible, except the 
Psalter, had ever been rendered into English, until the trans- 
lation of the whole volume was undertaken, at the suggestion 
of Wycliffe, and in part by his own efforts, a little before the 

z 2 



340 ENGLAND INDEPENDENT OF EOME Lect. VIII. 

beginming of the last quarter of the fourteenth century. English 
preach erS;, it is true, had alwaj^s freely introduced into their 
sermons quotations from the vulgate, translated for the occasion 
by themselves, and thus the people had already become somewhat 
familiarized with the contents of the Old and New Testament ; 
but these sermons were rarely copied for circulation, or probably 
even written down at all, a.nd therefore no opportunity existed 
for the study or consultation of the Bible as an English book.* 
The English nation, for reasons stated in a former lecture, 
had always been practically more independent of the papacy 
than the Continental states. The schism in the church, with 
the long struggle between the claimants to the chair of Peter — 
each of whom denounced his rival as an anti-pope, and excom- 
municated his followers as heretics — naturally much weakened 
the authority of both the contending parties. Men were not 
only at liberty, but found themselves compelled, to inquire which 
was the true head of the church, and they could not investigate 
the title of the respective claimants to ecclesiastical supre- 
macy, without being very naturally led to doubt whether either 

* Tlie translations of tlic texts cited by Wj'-clifFe liimself, in the controrcrslal 
works most confidently ascribed to liim, by no means agree literally with the 
version of the New Testament, and of a part of the Old, which he is believed to 
have executed. See Introduction to Madden and Forshall's edition of the 
Wycliffite Translations. Comparisons of this sort have often been appealed to as a 
test of the authenticity of writings attributed to his pen. But they seem to me 
to be entitled to very little vreiglit, Wycliffe WTote much before he made his 
translation, and his later works must often have been written when he could not 
have had that translation with him. The ' pore caityf,' as he humbly calls himself, 
certainly did not regard his own version with the reverence with which we view 
it ; and a good biblical scholar like him, finding a Latin scriptural text in an 
author he was refuting, or having occasion to use one which occiu-red to him, 
would, in the fervour of composition, write down the translation which, at the 
moment, presented itself, and which the argument in hand, suggested as the truest 
expression of the meaning. 

Few authors are vain enough to be disposed to quote or repeat their own words, 
or even the words of another which they have maJle their own b}'- translation, and 
I think a writer of the present day v/ould sooner re-translate a passage from an 
ancient author he wished to quote, than unshelf a volume, and copy a citation 
which he had translated on a former occasion. A discrepancy, therefore, between 
a text quoted by Wycliffe and his own formal translation of it elsewhere, affords 
no presumption against the auth.cntieity of a nianuscript attributed to him. 



Lect. VIII. POrE AND ANTI-POPE 341 

of them was better than a usurper. The decision of the im- 
mediate question between the rival pontiffs turned, in the end, 
more on politico,! than on canonical grounds * ; but while it 
was under discussion, the whole doctrine of papal supremacy 
underwent a sifting, that revealed to thousands the sandy nature 
of the foundation on which it rested. A result more important 
than the particular conclusions arrived at, as between the claims 
of Urban and Clement, was, that the controversy taught and 
habituated thinking ecclesiastics, and, b}^ their example, the 
laity, to exercise their reason upon topics which had before 
been generally considered as points which it was blasphemous 
even to debate. 

The habit of unquestioning submission to the decrees of a 
church which arrogated to itself infallibility of opinion, and 
binding authority of judgment, upon religious questions whose 

'^ Capgraye gives us a specimen of the arguments — ratloncs rcgum, or rather, 
ad rcgcs — employed by Pope and Anti-Pope with the sovereigns of their respective 
parties. 

'Also he -notified onto the Kyng [Richard II.], that the Antipope and the Kyng 
of Franns be thus accordid, that the seid Kyng of Prauns, with help of the duke 
of Burgon}^ and othir, schuL-set the Antipope in the sete at Home ; and the same 
Antipope schal make the Kyng of Prauns emperoure, and othir dukes he schal 
endcwe in the lordchippis of Itaile. Also, he enformed the King what perel 
schuld falle if the Antipope and the Kyng were thus acorded, and the Kyng of 
Prauns emperoure, — he schuld be that wey chalenge the dominion of Ynglond. 
Therefor the Pope counceleth the King, that he schal make no pes with the 
Kyng of Prauns but on this condicion, that the King of Prauns schal favoure the 
opinion of the trewe Pope, and suffir non of his puple to lite ageyn him.' — 
Capgrave, a.d. 1390, pp. 255, 256. 

It should be added that, on the same occasion, the Pope asked in vain for the 
repeal of the famous statutes, Quare impcdlt and Freimmv-i facias, so important 
to the liberties of England. 

' The Pope merveyled mech of certeyn statutes which were mad in this lend 
ageyn the liberte of the cherch ; and for the Pope supposed that it was not the 
Kyngis wil, therefor he sent his messagere to stere the Kyng that swech statutes 
schuld be abrogat whecli be ageyn the liberte of Holy Cherch, specially these 
two, *•' Quare impedit" and *' Premunire facias." ' 

The moment was ill chosen for asking a concession, which, under almost any 
circumstances, would have been too much for the sturdy independence of Eng- 
land; and though the request was enforced by the hint above mentioned, the 
chronicler informs us that, ' as for promociones of hem that dwelled at Eome, it 
wold not be graunted; but, for favoure of the Pope, thei graunted him his pro- 
Tysiones til the ncxta Farlcmcnt.^ — Capgrave, uhi supra. 



342 PRINCIPLE OF AUTHORITY Lect. VIII. 

compreliensioii demands the exercise of man's highest faculties, 
had naturally begotten a spirit of deference to the dicta of 
great names in secular learning also. This deference character- 
ized the mass of the original literature of the Continent through 
the Middle Ages ; and in discussions upon questions of natural 
knowledge, of history, of criticism, the opinions of eminent 
writers were commonly cited, not as arguments, or even as the 
testimony of competent witnesses to facts of observation, but as 
binding conclusions, scarcely less irrefragable or less sacred than 
the inspired infallibility of a pontiff. Habitual submission to 
the jarisdiction of secular names, as, for example, to the opi- 
nions of Aristotle in physics and metaphysics, was politicly 
encouraged and inculcated by the church, not merely because 
particular metaphysico-theological dogmas of Eome found sup- 
port in the Aristotelian philosophy, but because such submission 
was a practical recognition of the principle of authority in all 
moral and intellectual things. Just so, in the public policy of 
our times, the governing classes, in some states liberal in their 
own domestic administration, sustain the usurped dominion of 
certain dynasties over foreign territory, not because they believe 
the right or approve the oppressions of those dynasties, but 
because their rule is an embodiment of the aristocratic prin- 
ciple in government, and is therefore the representative and ally 
of aristocracy everywhere. 

The shock given to the dominion of the papal see, by the - 
schism and the discussions occasioned by that event, did much 
to weaken the authority of human names in letters and in 
philosophy; and it happened at a very favourable juncture for 
English literature, which thus, at its very birth, acquired an 
independence, and consequently an originality, that a half- 
century earlier or later it v/ould not have attained. 

The literature which belongs to the civilization of modern 
Europe is essentially Protestant, because it almost uniformly 
originated, if not in a formal revolt against the power of physi- 
cal coercion exerted by the church, at least in a protest against 
the morally binding obligation of her decrees, and its earliest 



Lect. VIII. WTCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS 343 

expression was a denunciation of those abuses which had con- 
verted her, from a nursing mother of the best and holiest 
affections of the heart, into a worldly, ambitious, self-seeking, 
rapacious, and oppressive organization. It is only when men 
are emancipated from humiliating spiritual servitude, that the 
intellect can be set free; and the training, which the unobstructed 
investigation and discussion of theological doctrine involves, is 
the most powerful of all methods of intellectual culture. 

The Wycliffite translations were made from the Latin of the 
vulgate.* There is not much reason to suppose that any of the 
persons engaged in this work knew enough of Grreek, still less 
of Hebrew, to translate directly from those languages; and 
consequently the new syntactical combinations they introduced 
are all according to the Latin idiom, except in so far as the 
dialect of the vulgate itself had been modified by the influence 
of the Grreek and Hebrew texts on which it was founded. But 
the translators often resorted to commentators for explanatloD, 
and thus sometimes became acquainted with Hebraisms at 
second hand; and the latest revision of the version, that of 
Purvey, is by no means a slavish copy of the literal sense of the 
vulgate, while it weeded out, without scruple, a large proportion 
of the Latinisms which the first translators had introduced into 
their renderings from an anxious desire for strict conformity to 
a text recognized by the church as of equal authority with the 
sacred original itself. 

I cannot go into a history of these versions on the present 
occasion, or examine the evidence on the question : how far 
John Wycliffe was personally concerned in the execution of 
them. It must suffice to say that in the only entirely trustworthy 
edition we possess of any of them — the liber vere aureus, 

^ By vulgate, I here mean tlie Latin translation adopted by tlie elinrcli and 
ascribed to Jerome, so far as tlie manuscripts tben in circulation could be identified 
with it. But the copies of the Scriptures, as of secular works, were often widely 
discrepant, even when professedly transcribed from the same original — a cir- 
cumstance which explains how the 'sjonple creature,' mentioned in a passage 
quoted at length in a subsequent part of this lecture, ' hadde myche trauaile * 
* to make oo Latyn bible sumdel trewe.' 



344 PROTESTANT LITERATURE Lect, VQL 

the golden book, of Old-Englisli philology — that, namely, 
published at Oxford in 1850, in four quarto volumes, under the 
editorship of Forshall and J^Iadden, the older text, from Grenesis 
to Baruch iii. 20, is believed to be the work of Hereford, an 
English ecclesiastic;* the remainder of the Old Testament 
and Apocrypha is supposed, and the whole of the New Testament 
almost certainly known, to have been translated by Wycliffe ; 
while the later text of the entire Bible is ascribed to Purvey. 
The precise periods of the beginning and ending of a work, 
which must have occupied many years in its execution, have 
not been ascertained, but we have reason to think that the older 
text was completed about 1380, the revision by Purvey some 
eight or ten years later, or a little before 1390. 

These translations must, in spite of the great cost of copying 
them, have been very widely circulated ; for old manuscripts of 
them are still very numerous, although we know that, for a cen- 
tury and a half after the work was done, unwearied pains were 
taken by the Eomish ecclesiastical authorities to secure the de- 
struction of every trace of this heretical version. 

It is a noteworthy circumstance in the history of the literature 
of Protestant countries, that, in every one of them, the creation 
or revival of a national literature has commenced with, or at 
least been announced by, a translation of the Scriptures into 
the vernacular, which has been remarkable both as an accurate 
representative of the original text, and as an exhibition of the 
best jDower of expression possessed by the language at that stage 
of its development. Hence, in all those countries, these ver- 
sions have had a very great influence, not only upon religious 
opinion and moral training, but upon literary effort in other 

*. Hereford's portion, the oi-iginal mairaseript of which is still extant, ends abruptly 
with the second word of the chapter and verse above mentioned : ' The jonge.' 

I make the statement in the text in deference to the anthority of the editors of 
the Wycliffite translations ; but I think the internal evidence is against the sup- 
position that the older version, from Genesis to Baruch, was the work of one man. 
There are important grammatical differences between the historical books, down 
to Paralipomena inclusive, and the remainder of that version. For instance, in 
the former, the active participle generally ends in yiige ; in the latter, it usually 
terminates in cndc. 



Lect. VIII. PEOTESTANT BIBLES 345 

fields, and indeed upon the whole philological history of the 
nation. Thus the English translations of the Wycliffite school, 
the Danish version of 1550, and the G-erman of Luther, are, 
linguistically considered, among the very best examples of the 
most cultivated phase, and most perfected form, of their re- 
spective languages at the times when they appeared. The 
German and the Danish Bibles have, indeed, exerted a much 
more important literary influence than the Wycliffite. But 
this is due, not more to superior excellence, than to the fact 
that the former translations appeared after the invention 
of printing, and were consequently easily and cheaply multi- 
plied and distributed; and further that their circulation was 
encouraged and promoted by both the temporal and the eccle- 
siastical authorities of the countries where they were published. 
The Wycliffite versions, on the other hand, existed only in 
manuscript during a period of between four and five centuries, 
and, for a hundred and fifty years, could be copied and circu- 
lated only at great hazard to both transcriber and reader. 

The excellence of translation, which was a necessary condition 
of the literary influence of all these versions, is to be ascribed 
to two principal causes. The first is the obvious one, that the 
translators, as well as the public, were in a state of great reli- 
gious sensibilit}^, and inspired by the feeling of intellectual 
exaltation and expansion, which always accompanies the eman- 
cipation of the mind and conscience from the galKng shackles 
of spiritual despotism. The other is the less familiar fact, that 
the three languages were then marked by a simplicity of voca- 
bulary and of verbal combination, which more nearly agreed 
with the phraseology of the original Scriptures than does the 
artificial pmd complicated diction of later ages ; and of course 
they exhibit a closer resemblance to the Hebrew and G-reek 
texts than would be practicable with a more modern style of 
expression, and with a greater number of words more specific 
in meaning and less capable of varied application.* 

* See First Scrlc,?, Lecture XXVIII., p. 635. 



346 WYCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS LtCT. VIII. 

I have already occupied so large a portion of this course in 
treatinsr of the earlier forms of the Enoiish lano-uap-e and lite- 
rature, that I cannot go much into detail with regard to the 
peculiarities of the diction of the Wyclifete Scriptures ; but the 
most important of them will appear from an examination of 
Wycliffe's and Purvey's versions of a chapter from the Gospels, 
and a comparison of them with other translations. 

I select the eighth chapter of Matthew for this purpose, and 
for the convenience of comparison I give : 1. The Anglo-Saxon 
version, from the Gospel of Matthew printed at the University 
Press at Cambridge, in 1858 ; — 2. a word-for-word English trans- 
lation of the Anglo-Saxon text ; — 3. Wycliffe's translation ; — 
€:. Purvey's revision ; — and 5. the Latin of the Vulgate, from 
Stier and Theile, 1854. I add, by way of further illustration, at 
the end of this lecture, the Mceso-Gothic of Ulfilas, and the 
original Greek. Tyndale's and Choke's translations of the same 
chapter will be found at the end of Lecture XL 

THE EIGHTH CHAPTEE OF MATTHEW. 
L 

1. So'blice ]>a se H^elend of fam munte ny^er-astah, fa 

2. (For-)sootli when the Saviour from the monnt came-down, there 

3. Forsothe when Jliesns hadde comen doun fro the hil, 

4. But whanne Jhesus was come doun fro the hil, 

5. Cum autem descendisset de monte, 

1. fyligdon him mycle masnio. 

2. followed him great multitudes. 

3. many cumpanyes fole widen hym. 

4. mych puple suede hym. 
5. secutJB sunt eum turbre multse. 

II. 

1. Da genealcehte tin hreolla to him and hine to him 

2. Then niglied a leper to him and him(-self ) to him 

3. And loo ! a leprouse man cummynge worshipide 

4. And loo ! a leprouse man cam and worschipide 

5. Et ccce ! leprosus veniens adorabat 



Lect. VIII. 



WYCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS 



347 



1. ge-eat5medde, and Jrns cwseS ; 

2. humbled, and thus spake ; 



3. hym, 

4. hym, 
5. cum, 

1. wylt, ])u 

2. wilt, tliou 

3. wolt, thou 

4. wolt, thou 



Drihten, 

Lord, 

Lord, 

Lord, 
Domine, 



saymge ; 

and seide ; 

dicens ; 

miht me geclEensian. 

canst me cleanse, 

maist make me clene. 

maist make me clene. 



gyf fn 

if thou 

jif thou 

if thou 



5. vis, 



potes 



me mundare. 
IIL 



1. Da astrehte se Ha^lend hys hand, and hrepode hyne 

2. Then outstretched the Saviour his hand, and touched him 

3. And Jhesns holdynge forthe the hond, touchide hym 
4» And Jhesus helde forth the hoond, and touchide hym, 

5. Et extendens Jesus manum, tetigit eum 



1. 


and pus c WEB'S, 


Ic wylle ; 


beo geclasnsod. 


And hys 


2. 


and thus spake, 


I will; 


be cleansed. 


And his 


3. 


sayinge, 


I wole; 


be thou maad clene. 


And anoon 


4. 


and seide. 


Ywole; 


be thou maad cleene. 


And anoon 


5. 


dicens. 


Volo; 


mundare. 


Et confestim 


1. 


hreofla wses 


hrcsdlice 


geclsensod. 




2. 


leprosy was immediately 


cleansed. 






3. 


the lepre of 


hym was 


; clensid. 






4. 


the lepre of 


him was 


clensid. 






5. 


mundata 


est lepra 


ejus. 
IV. 






1. 


Da cwa?.{5 se Haslend 


to him. 


Warna ]>e 


J)set ])u 


2. 


Then said the Saviour 


to him. 


See 


that thou 


3. 


And Jhesus 


saith to 


hym; 


See, 


say thou 


4. 


And Jhesus 


seide to 


hym; 


Se, 


seie thou 


5. 


Et ait 


iUi 


Jesus ; 


Vide, 


nemini 


1. 


hyt nsenegum 


men ne 


secge ; 


ac gang, ssteowde 


2. 


it (to) no 


man 


te'il; 


but go. 


show 


3. 


to no 


man; 




but go. 


shewe 


4. 


to no 


man; 




but go. 


shewe 


5. 


dixeris ; 






sed vade. 


, ostende 



348 



WTCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS 



Lect. VIII. 



1. ]7e ]7am sacerde, and bring hym pa lac ])e Moysea 

2. thee (to) the priest, and bring him the gift that Moses 

3. thee to prestis, and ofFre that jifte that Moyses 
4:, thee to the prestis, and ofFre the p.ft that Moyses 

5. te sacerdoti, et offer munus quod 

1. bebead, on hyra gecy^nesse. 

2. bad, for their information. 

3. comaundide, into witnessing to hem- 

4. comanndide, in witnessyng to hem. 
5. prsecepit Moyses, in testimonium illis. 



1. SoSlice ])ii se Htelend ineode on Capharnaum, 

2. (For-)sooth when the Saviour went-in to Capernaum, 

3. Sothely when he hadde entride in to Capharnaum, 
4:, And whanne he hadde entrid in to Cafarnaum, 

5. Cum autem introisset Capharnaum, 

1. ]?a genealashte hym an hundredes ealdor, hyne 

2. there nighed (to) him a hundred's captain, him 

3. centurio neigide to hym 
4:o the centurien nei^ede to him 

5. accessit ad eurii centurio 

1. biddende, 

2. praying, 

3. preyinge hym, 

4. and preiede him, 



5. rogans eum, 



VI. 



1. And ]?us cwet5ende, Drihten, min cnapa li^ on mfmim 



2. And thus saying, 

3. And 

4. And 
5, et 



Lord, my knave lieth in 

said. Lord, my child lyeth in 

seide. Lord, my childe lijth in 

dicens, Domine, puer mens jacet in 

1. huse lama, and mid yfle gej^read. 

2. house lame, and with evil afllicted. 

3. hous sike on the palsie, and] is yuel tourmentid, 

4. hous sijk on the palesie, and is yuel turmentid. 
6, domo paralyticus, et male torquetur. 



my 
the 
the 



Lect. VIII. TVTCLIFFITE TKA>^SLATI0^'S 349 

VII. 

1. Da cvasS se Hcelend to him, Tc cume and hine gelicele. 

2. Then said the Saviour to Jiim, I come and him heal. 

3. And Jhesus saith to hym, I slial cume, and shal hele hym. 

4. And Jhesns seide to him, Y schal come,andschalheelehim. 
5. Et ait illi Jesns, Ego veniam, et curabo eum. 

VIII. 

1. Da andswarode se hundredes ealdor and ]?us cwae'S, 

2. Then answered the hundred's cajDtain and thus said, 
8. And centurio answerynge saith to hym, 

4. And the centurien answeride, and seide to hym, 
5. Et respondens centurio ait, 

1. Drihten, ne eom ic wyrSe ])cet pu ingange under 

2. Lord, not am I worthy that tliou in-go under 

3. Lord, I am not worthi, that thou entre vndir 

4. Lord, Y am not worthi, that thou entre vndur 
5. Domine, non sum dignus, ut intres sub 

1. mine pecene ; ac cwa^S ]nn an word, and min cnapa 

2. my roof; but speak thy one word, and my knave 

3. my roof; but oonly say bi word, and my child 

4. my roof; but conii seie thou bi word, and my childe 
5. tectum meum ; sed tantum die verbo, et 

1. biS gehosled. 

2. will-be healed. 

3, shall be helid. 

4, shal be heelid. 

5. sanabitur puer meus. 

IX. 

1. SoSlice ic eom man tinder anwealde gesett, and ic 

2. (For-)sooth I am (a) man under authority set, and I 

3. For whi and I am a man ordeynd vnder power, 

4. For wdii Y am a man ordeyned vndur power, 
5. Nam et ego homo sum sub potestate constitutus, 

1. hsebbe ]7egnas under me ; and ic cwEe^e to pysum. Gang, 

2. have soldiers under me ; and I say to this. Go, 

3. hauynge vndir me knijtis ; and I say to this, Go, 

4. and haue knyjtis vndir me ; and Y seie to this, Go, 
5. habens sub me milites; et dice huic: Vade, 



350 WTCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS Lect. Vlll. 

1. and lie g^t5 ; and ic cwe^e to oprum, Cum, and he cjm^ ; 

2. and lie goetli; andl say to (an-)other, Come, and lie cometh ; 

3. and he goth ; and to an other, Come thou, and he cometh; 

4. andhegoith; and to another, Come, and he cometh; 
5. et vadit ; et alii, Veni, et venit ; 

1. to minum ])eowe, Wyrc ]?is, and he \vjrcS. 

2. to my servant. Do this, and he doeth. 

3. and to my seruaunt, Do thou this thing, and he doth. 

4. and to my seruaunt, Do this and he doith it. 
5. et servo meo, Fac hoc, et facit. 

X. 

1. Witodlice ]m se Haslend J>is gehyrde, fa wundrode he, 

2. Now when the Saviour this heard, then wondered he, 

3. Sothely Jhesus, heerynge these thingis, wondride, 

4. And Jhesus herde these thingis, and wondride, 
5. Audiens autem Jesus miratus est, 

1. and cweeS to })am ])q him fyligdon : So'S ic secge eow ne 

2. and said to them that him followed : Sooth I say (to) you not 

3. and saide to men suynge hym : Trewly I saye to jou 

4. and seide to men that sueden him : Treuli I seie to 50U 
5. et sequentibus se dixit : Amen dico vobis 

1. gemette ic swa mycelne geleafan on Israhel. 

2. met I so much belief in Israel. 

3. I fond nat so grete feith in Yrael. 

4. Y foond not so greete feith in Israel. 
5. non inveni tantam fidem in Israel. 





XI 






1. 


To so^um ic secge eow, 


Da^t manige cumaS 


fram 


2. 


In sooth I say (to) you. 


That many (shall) come 


from 


3. 


Sothely Y say to jou. 


that manye shulen come 


fro 


4. 


And Y seie to 50U, 


that many schulen come 


fro 


5. 


Dico autem vobis. 


quod multi ab Oriente 


et 



1. east-dasle and west-doele, and wunia'S mid Abrahame 

2. (the) east-deal and (the) west-deal, and dwell with Abraham 

3. the est and west, and shulen rest with Abraham 
4. the eest and the west, and schulen reste with Abraham 

5. Occidente venient et recumbent cum Abraham 



Lect. viil wtcliffite translations 351 

1. and Isaace and Jacobe, on heofena rice; 

2. and Isaac and Jacob in heavens' realm ; 

3. and Ysaac and Jacob in the kyngdam of lienenes; 

4. and Ysaac and Jacob in the kjaigdom of heuenes; 

5. et Isaac et Jacob in regno coelorum ; 

XII. 

1. Witodlice ]}ises rices beam beoS aworpene on J^a yte- 

2. Verily this reabii's children (shall) be out-cast in(to) the oiiter- 

3. forsothe the sonys of the rewme shiilen be cast out into vttre- 

4. but the sones of the rewme schulen be cast out in to vtmer 

6. filii autem regni ejicientur in tenebras 

1. mestan ])ystro : ]>£er bi(S wop, and toj^a gristbitung. • 

2. most darkness : there (shall) be weeping, and (of) teeth grinding. 

3. mest derlmessisj there slial be weepynge, and beetynge togidre of teeth. 
-4. derknessis ; there schal be wepyng, and gTj^nting of teeth. 

5. exteriores ; ibi erit fletus et stridor dentium. 

XIII. 

1. And se H^lend cwosS to J-am hundrydes ealdre, 

2. And the Saviour said to the hundred's elder, 

3. And Jhesus saide to centurio, 

4. And Jhesus seide to the centurioun, 

5. Et dixit Jesus centurioni, 

1. Ga ; and gewurSe ]>e swa swa ]ui gelyfdest. And se 

2. Go; and be (it) (to) thee so as thou believedst. And the 

3. Go ; and as thou hast bileeued be it don to thee. And the 

4. Go ; and as thou hast bileuyd be it doon to thee. And the 
5. Vade ; et sicut credidisti fiat tibi. Et 

1. cnapa wees geha^led on fasre tide. 

2. knave vras healed in that hour. 

3. child was helid fro that houre. 

4. child was heelid fro that hour. 
5. sanatus est puer in ilia hora. 

XIV. 

1. Da se Ifelend com on Petres huse, 

2. "When the Saviour came in(to) Peter's house, 

3. And when Jhesus hadde comen in to the hous of Symond Petre, 

4. And whanne Jhesus was comun in to the hous of Symount Petre, 
5. Et cum venisset Jesus in domuni Petri, 



352 

1. 
2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 



1. 

2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 



])a geseali 
tlien saw 
he say- 
he say 
vidifc 



hriSgende. 
feverish, 
shakun with feueris. 
shakun with feueris. 

febricitantem. 



W Y CLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS 




Lect. VIIL 


he hys swegre licgende, 


and 




he his mother-in-law lying, 


and 




his wyues moder liggynge, 


and 




his wyues modir liggynge, 


and 




socrum ejus jacentem 


et 





And he 
And he 
And he 
And he 
Et 



cethran 
touched 
touchide 
touchide 
tetifiit 



hyre 
her 
hir 
hir 



xy. 

hand, and 

hand, and 

hond, and 

hoond, and 



se fefor hig fortlet 

the fever her left : 

the feuer lefte hir: 

the feuer lefte hir: 



tSa aras heo, 
then arose she, 
and she roose, 
and she roos, 

et surrexit. 



manum ejus, 

and penode him. 
and served them, 
and seruyde hem. 
and seruede hem. 
et ministrabat eis. 

XVI. 



et dimisit earn febris; 



1. SoSlice fa hyt asfen w£es, hig brohton him 

2. Soothly when it evening was, they brought (to) him 
8. Sothely whan the euenyng was maad, thei brou;^te to hym 
4. And whanne it was eucn, thei brougten to hym 

5. Vespere autem facto, obtulerimt ei 



1. manege 



deofol-seoce : and 

2. many devil-sick : and 

3. many hauynge deuelys : and 

4. manye that hadden deuelis : and 
5. multos daemonia habentes : et 

1. unclasnan gastas mid hys vforde, 

2. unclean ghosts with his word, 

3. spiritis by v/ord, 

4. spiritis bi word, 
5, Bpiritus verbo, 



he ut-adr£ede J»a 
he out-drave the 
he castide out 
he castide out 
ejiciebat 

and he ealle 
and he all 
and helide alle 
and heelide alle 
et omnes 



Lect. VIII. 



WYCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS 



353 



1. 
2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 



1. 

2. 
8. 
4. 
5. 

1. 

2. 

3, 
4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 



gelicelde pa yfel-heebbendan ; 
healed tlie evil-having ; 
hauynge ynel; 
that weren yiiel at ese ; 
male habentes curavit ; 

XVII. 

Dait wcere gefylled ] set gecweden is jnirli Esaiam 
That might-be fulfilled what spoken is through Esaias 
that it shulde be fiilfillid, that thing that was said by Ysaie, 
that it were fulfillid, that was seid by Ysaie, 



nt adimpleretnr, 

]7one witegan, (5us 
the prophet, thus 
the prophete, 
the profete, 
prophetam, 

nessa, and 

ities, and 

tees, and 

tees, and 
accepit, et 



onfenj 



Da geseah se 
When saw the 



cweSende, 

saying, 

sayinge, 

seiynge, 

dicentem, 

be aba3r ure 
he bare our 

bere oure sykenessis. 

bar oure siknessis. 
segrotationes nostras portavit. 

XVIII. 

Hffilend mycle menige 
Saviour much 



quod dictum est 

He 
He 
He 
He 

Ipse 

adla. 
ails. 



per Isaiam 

ure untrum- 
took our infirm- 
toke oure inflrmy- 
took oure infirmy- 
infirmitates nostras 



Sothely Jhesus 
And Jhesus 
Videns autem 

hyne, ]/a het he hig 
him, then bade he them 
hym, bad his discijfUs 
him, and bade hise disciplis 
se, jussit 

XIX. 



Qienigeo ymbutan 
people about 

seeynge many cumpanyes about 
say myche puple aboute 
Jesus turbas multas circum 



faran ofer fone mu'San. 

(to) fare over the water. 

U.0 ouer the 



go ouer 
ire trans 



the 



water, 
watir. 



fretmn. 



1. Da genealcchte him an bocere, and cwae^, 

2. Then nighed (to) him a scribe, and said, 

3. And 00 scribe, or a man of lawe, commynge to, saide to hym, 

4. And a scribe neijede, and seide to hym, 

5. Et accedens unus scriba ait iUi, 

AA 



54 




WYCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS Lect. 


VIII. 


1. Lareow, 


ic 


fylige ]?e 


swa hwaeder swa 


pu 


2. Teacher, 


I 


follow thee 


■\vhither-so-ever 


thou 


3. Maistre, 


I 


shal sue thee 


whidir euer 


thou 


4. Maistir, 


Y 


shal sue thee 


whidir euer 


thou 


5. Magister, 




sequar to 


quocumque 




1. ferst. 










2. farest. 










3. slialt go. 










4. schalt go. 










5. ieris. 











XX. 

1. Da cwse^ se Hcelend to him, Foxas habba'S 

2. Then said the Saviour to him, Foxes have 

3. And Jhesus said to hym, Foxis han 

4. And Jhesus seide to hym, Foxis han 
5. Et dicit ei Jesus, Vulpes foveas 

1. holu, and heofenan fuglas nest ; soSlice mannes sunu 

2. holes, and heavens' fowls nests ; soothly man's son 



3. 

4. 



dichis, or horoivis, and briddis of the eir han nestis ; but mannes sone 
dennes and briddis of heuene/mra nestis; but mannus sone 



5. habent, 

1. nsefS hw£er 

2. has-not where 

3. hath nat wher 

4. hath not where 
5. non habet ubi 



et volucres coeli nidos ; filiusautemhominis 

he hys heafod ahylde. 
he his head may-lay, 
he reste his heued. 
he schal reste his heed, 
caput recHnet. 



XXI. 

1. Da cwajS to him o])er of hys 

2. Then said to him (an)other of his 

3. Sotheli an other of his disciplis saide to 

4. Anothir of his disciplis seide to 
5. Alius autem de discipulis ejus ait 

1. Drihten, alyfe me ajrest to farenne 

2. Lord, let me first fare 

3. Lord, suffre me go first 

4. Lord, suffre me to go first 
5. Domine, permitte me primum ire 



leoming-cnihtum, 

disciples, 
hym, 
him, 
illi, 

and bebyrigean 

and bury 

and birye 

and birie 

et sepelire 



r.ECT. VIII. 



"WrCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS 



355 



1. minne feeder. 

2. my father. 

3. my fadir. 

4. niy fader. 
5. patrem menm. 



XXII. 



1. 

2. 

8. 
4. 
5. 

1. 



Da cw£e5 se Ha^lend to liim, 

Then said the Saviour to him, 

Forsothe Jhesus saide to hym, 

But Jhesus seide to hym, 

Jesus autem ait illi, 

deade bebyrigan hyra deadan. 

2. (the) dead bury their dead. 

3. dede men hirye her dead men. 

4. deed men birie her deede men, 

5. mortuos sepelire mortuos suos. 

XXIII. 

1. And he astah on scyp 

2. And he entered in(to) (a) ship and his 

3. And Jhesu steyinge vp in to a litel ship, his 

4. And whanne he was goon vp in to a litil schip, his 
5. Et ascendente eo in naviculam, 

1. hym fyligdon. 

2. him followed. 

3. sueden him. 

4. sueden hym. 
5. discipuli ejus. 

xxrv. 



Fylig me, 


and 


last 


Follow me, 


and 


let 


Sue thou me. 


and 


late 


Sue thou me. 


and 


lets 


Sequere me 


et 


dimitte 



and hys leorning-cnyhtas 

disciples 

disciplis 

disciphs 

secuti sunt eum 



1. Da wearS mycel styrung 

2. Then was (a) great stir 

3. And loo ! a grete steryng 
And loo ! a greet stiring 

Et ecce ' 



geworden on pgere see, swa "^ 



4. 

5. 

1. 
2. 



was made 
was maad 
factus est 

•j) scyp wearS ofergoten mid ySum ; 
the ship was over-poured with Avaves; 

3. the litil ship was hilid Avith wawis ; 

4. the schip was hilid Avith Av^awes; 
5. navicula operu-etur fluctibus; 

^A 2 



the sea, so that 

the see, so that 

the see, so that 

mari, ita ut 

Avitodlice he slep. 
verily he slept, 
but he slepte. 
but he slepte. 
ipse vero dormiebat. 



356 



WYCLIFFITE THANSLATIONS 



Lect. VIII, 



XXV. 

1. And hig genealteliton, and liy awehton Hyne, 

2. And they nighed, andtliey awaked him, 

3. And his disciplis camen nij to hym, and raysiden hym, 

4. Andhisediscipliscamen to hym, and reysiden hym, 
5. Et accesserunt ad enm discipuli ejus, et suscitaverunt eum, 



thus 



1. 

2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 



cweSende, Drihten, 
saying, Lord, 
sayinge, Lord, 

and seiden, Lord, 



hasle ns : ^ye nioton forAvnrSan. 

save lis: we must perish, 

sane vs : we perishen, 

sane vs: we perischen. 



dicentes, Domine, salva nos: 



perimus. 



to 



XXVI. 

him, To hwi syntge 



forhte, 



lytles 



Da cwa3iS he 

Then said he to them, For why are ye aiFrightedye(of)Httle 
And Jhesus seith to hem, What ben gee of litil feith agast ? 
And Jhesus seide to hem, What ben ge of litil feith agaste ? 
Et dicit eis Jesus, Quid timidi estis. modica) fidei ? 
geleafan. Da aras he and bebead ]:'am winde and ])sere 
faith? Then arose he and bade the wind and the 
Thanne he rysjaige comaundide to the wjmdis and the 
Thanne heroosandcomamidideto the wyndis and the 
Tunc surgens imperavit ventis et 

]7a^r wearS geworden mycel smyltness, 
there Avas (a) great calm, 

a grete pesiblenesse is maad. 
a greet pesibilnesse was maad. 
facta est tranquillitas magna. 



S£e, 
sea, 



see, 



see, 
mari 



and 
and 
and 
and 
et 



XXVIL 



and ]nis cv/sedon: 
and thus spake: 

sayinge : 
and seiden: 

dicentes : 



HwEet 

What 
What 
What 
Qualis 



1. Gewisslice ]?a men wundrodun, 

2. Verily then men wondered, 

3, Forsothe men wondreden, 

4, And men wondridcn, 
5. Porro homines mirati sunt, 

1. is pes f windas and see him hyrsumiaS. 

2. is this that winds and sea him obey? 

3. manere man is he this, for the wyndis and the see obeishen to hym. 

4. maner man is he this, for the wyndis and the see obeischen to him. 

5. est hie, quia venti et mare obediunt ei? 



Lect. VIII. 



WYCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS 



357 



1. 

2. 
3. 

4. 
2. 

1. 
2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 



xxYin. 

Da se Haslend com oferjjonemircan on Geraseniscra 

When the Saviour came over the water in(to) (the) Gergesenes 

And whan Jhesus hadde comen ouer the water in to the cmitre 

And whanne Jhesus was comun ouer the watir in to the cuntre 



Et cum 

rice, J>a union 
country there ran 
of men of Genazereth 
of men of Gerasa 
Gerasenorum, 

deofol-seocnesse, of 

devil-sickness, 

to hym, 

deuelis, 

deemonia. 



venisset trans fretum in regionem 

him togenes twegen ]?e haifdon 
him towards twain that had 
twey men haujTige deuelis runnen 



twey men metten hym 
occurrcrunt ei duo 



that hadden 
habentes 



byrgenum litgangende, 

from (the) tombs out-going, 

goynge out fro birielis, 

and camen out of graues, 

de monumentis exeuntes, 



pa 

that 



w£Gron 
were 



swiSe 



re(5e, 
very fierce 
ful feerse, or wickid, so 
fulwoode, 
scevi nimis, 

]?urh pone 



swa f 
so that 



through 

by 

bi 
per 



that 
that 
that 
viam 



so 
ita 

weg. 

way. 

wey. 

weie. 

illam. 



that 
that 
ut 



nan 
no 
no 

noo 



man 
man 
man 
man 



nemo 



mihte faran 
might fare 
migte passe 
myjte go 
posset transire 



XXIX. 



1. And hig hrymdon, and cwaedon, 

2. And they cried, and said, 

3. And loo ! thei crieden, sayinge, 

4. And lo ! thei crieden, and seiden, 

5. Et ecce ! clamaverunt dicentes, 



La Haslend Godes 

O Saviour God's 

What to vs and 

What to vs and 

Quid nobis et 



1. sunn, hwset ys ])e and us gemaene? 

2. son, what is (to) thee and us common? 

3. to thee, Jhesu the sone of God? 

4. to thee, Jhesu the sone of God? 



tibi, 



Jesu, 



fiU Dei? 



come ])u hider 

comestthou hither 

hast thou comen 

art thou comun 

Venisti hue 



358 



WTCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS 



Lect. VIII. 



1. 
2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
8. 
4. 



1. 
2. 
3. 

4. 
5. 

1. 
2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 



ger tide us to ])reagenne? 

ere (the) time ns to torment? 
hidir before the tyme for to tourmente vs ? 
hidir bifore the tyme to turmente vs ? 

ante tempiis torquere nos? 



Dasr wses soSlice 

There was verily 
Sothely a iioc, or droiie, 

And not fer fro liem was a 
Erat antem non lono-e ab illis 



XXX. 

unfeorr an 
iinfar an 
of many 



swyna heord 
(of) swine herd 
hoggis lesewynge 

flocke of many swyne 
grex mnltorum porcorum 



manegra manna, lasswiende. 
(of) many men, feeding. 
was nat fer from hem. 

lesewynge. 
pasccns. 
XXXI. 



Da deofla 

The devils 

But the deuelis 

And the deuelis 

Dasmones autem 



soSlice hyne 

verily him 

preyeden 

preyeden 

rogabant 



baidon, ]ms cwe'Sende, 
begged, thus saying. 



him, 
hym, 
eum. 



asendeus on ])as 



seymge, 

and seiden, 

dicentes, 

swine heorde 



Gyf 
If 

If 

Si 



])u us ut-adrifst, 

thou us out-drivest, send us in(to) this (of) swine herd. 

thou castist out vs hennes, sende vs in to the droue of hoggis. 

thou castist out vs fro hennes, sende vs in to the droue of swyne. 

ejicis nos hinc, mittenosin gregem porcorum. 



XXXII. 



1. Da cwae'S he to him, 

2. Then said he to them, 

3. And he saith to hem, 

4. And he seide to hem, 

5. Et ait illis, 

1. utgangende fer don on 

2. out-going fared in(to) 

3. out wente in to 

4. out and wenten in to 

5. abierunt in 



FaratJ. 
Fare. 
Go gee. 
Goje. 
Ite. 

Jia swin ; 
the swine ; 
the hoggis ; 
the swyne ; 
porcos J 



And hig fa 

And they then 

And thei goynge 

And thei jeden 

At illi exeuntes 

and J^ajrrihte 

and forthwith 

and loo ! in a 
and loo ! in a 
et ecce I 



Lect. VIII. 



"WTCLIFFITE TRANSLATIONS 



359 



niwel on ]>a s^, 
doAvn in(to) the sea, 
in to the see, 
in to the see, 
in mare, 



1. ferde eall seo heord myclum onrsese 

2. fared all the herd (with) a great rush 

3. greet hire al the droue wente heedlynge 

4. greet hire al the drone wente heedlyng 
5. impetu abiit totus grex per prteceps 

1. and hig wurdon deade on fam wsetere. 

2. and they were dead in the water. 

3. and thei ben dead in watris. 

4. and thei weren deed in the watris. 

5. et mortui sunt in aquis. 

XXXIII. 

1. Da hyrdas witodlice flugon, and comun on J?a 

2. The herdsmen verily fled, and came in(to) the 

3. Forsothe the hirdes fledden awey, and cummynge in to the 

4. And the hirdis fledden awey, and camen in to the 

5. Pastores autem fugerunt, et venientes in 

1. ceastre, and cyddon ealle pas ping; and be pam 

2. city, and (made) known all these things ; and about them 

3. citee, tolden alle these thingis; and of hem 

4. citee and telden alle these thingis; and of hem 

6. civitatem nuntiaverunt omnia; et de iis 

1. pe pa deoful-seocnyssa haefdon. 

2. that the devil- sickness had. 

3. that hadden the fendis. 

4. that hadden the feendis. 
5. qui daemonia habuerant. 



XXXIV. 

ceaster-waru togeanes pam 

citizens towards the 

citee wente ajeinis 

citee wente out ajens 

civitas exiit obviam 

1. and pa pa hig hyne gesawun, 

2. and when that they him saw, 

3. metynge hym; and hym seen, 

4. and whanne thei hadden seyn hym, 

5. et viso eo 



1. 


Da code 


eaU 


seo 


2. 


Then went 


all 


the 


3. 


And loo ! 


al 


the 


4. 


And lo! 


al 


the 


5. 


Et ecce! 


tota 


< 



HsBlende, 

Saviour, 

Jhesu, 

Jhesu, 

Jesu, 



■Sa bsedon 

then bade 

thei preiden 

thei preieden 



hig 
they 



hyne 
him 



rogabant 



360 Hereford's translation Lect. VIIL 

1. f he ferde fram lieora gemserum. 

2. that he (would) fare from their borders. 

3. that he shulde pass fro her coostis. 

4. that he wolde passe fro her coostis. 
5. ut transiret a iinibus eorum. 

The earlier Wycliffite text of the first part of the Old Testa- 
ment, or that ascribed to Hereford, is remarkable both for the 
resuscitation of obsolete Anglo-Saxon forms, and for the intro- 
duction of Latinisms resulting from an attempt at a literal close- 
ness of rendering.* 

Both these circumstances give some countenance to the sup- 
position, that Hereford's work is only a recension of an English 
prose translation belonging to a considerabl}^ earlier philological 
period; but there is no evidence whatever of the existence of 
any such, and it is not impossible that Hereford's vocabulary 
and accidence were influenced by a familiarity with the Anglo- 
Saxon version of the New Testament, and of parts of the Old. 

Among the Saxonisms, I may mention the use of the gerun- 
dial instead of the passive. The Saxon gerundial ended in 
enne, and was used with the prefix to, like our modern infinitive. 
Thus, he is to lujigenne signified, both, he is about to love, and, 
more frequently, he is to he loved. This form Hereford employs, 
substituting the termination inge for enne, as, al that is to luer- 
chynge, meaning, all that is to be wrought ; the hid is to seeth- 
inge, the kid is to be sodden, or boiled. 

He omits the possessive sign in s, saying doivjjtir husbonde, 
unhil dow^tir, hushonde fadir, for daughter's husband, uncle's 
daughter, husband's father.f 

He uses the verb be as a future, as, they ben to seyn, for, they 
will say. 

* In Lecture V., I accompanied the 102nd Psalm, from the Surtees Psalter, with 
Hereford's translation. I add to this lecture, Longer Notes and Illustrations, II., 
Purvey's translation of the same psalm, for the sake of comparison. 

t Examples of this omission of the modern possessive sign are found in writera 
of the early part of the sixteenth century. 



Lect. VIII. TVTCLIFFE AND PURVEY 361 

He employs oure and yoiire as genitives plural, not as pos- 
sessive pronouns, as, oure dreed, the dread of us ; youre feer, 
the fear of you. 

He uses the Anglo-Saxon feminine ending in ster, as daun- 
ster, a female dancer, sleester or slayster, a murderess, syngster, 
a songstress. 

But the most remarkable peculiarities of his style are the 
Latinisms. 

Thus he renders the ablative absolute literally, as, for ex- 
ample, tbe viso somnio of the vulgate, not, as at present, 
' a vision having been seen,' or ' having seen a vision,' but 
directly, a seen sweven.^ The Latin impersonal videbatur, it 
seemed, he renders it was seen, and he constantly uses the 
accusative before the infinitive. Thus, instead of ' I dreamed 
that we luere binding sheaves,^ he has ' I dreamed us to binden 
sheaves ; ' but this, though most probably a mere transference of 
a Latin form, is possibly a native idiam, for it is of frequent 
occurrence in Icelandic. 

In Wycliffe's and Purvey's texts, these un-English expres- 
sions disappear, and are superseded by more modern etymolo- 
gical and syntactical forms. The feminine endiug ster, for 
example, is superseded by the French esse; and this ending is 
employed much more freely than at present, and is applied 
indiscriminately to Saxon and Eomance roots. Thus we have 
daunseresse, disciplesse, dwelleresse, devouresse, servauntesse, 
sleeresse, thrallesse, waileresse, and the like. 

The syntax of these latter translators is by no means free 
from either Latin or French constructions, but it is, neverthe- 
less, much more idiomatic than that of Hereford. The gram- 
matical change, by which the active or present participle in 
-ends assumed the form of the verbal noun in -ing, and which 
I have discussed in my First Series, Lecture XXIX., became 

^' This Latinism, it -svill have been seen, occurs also in Yfycliffe, though rarely. 
Thus, in the 34th verse of the eighth chapter of Matthew, already given, the et 
viso eo of the vulgate is rendered and hym seen, without any regimen, the phrase 
being taken absolutely, as in Latin. 



362 WYCLIFFE AND PURVEY Lect. YllL 

established while these translations were in process of execution. 
The distinction between the participle and the noun was kept 
Tip with considerable regularity nntil towards the end of the 
fourteenth century, when it was lost sight of; the participial 
termination in ^and or -end became obsolete, and both participle 
and verbal noun took the common ending -ing. The former 
translator of the Apocrypha, the Psalms^ Proverbs, and the 
Prophets, used the two forms, and, with few exceptions, accu- 
rately discriminated between them ; but when Wycliffe took up 
the continuation of Hereford's vfork, the participle in -end had 
gone so much out of use that he dropped it altogether, and 
employed the termination -i7ig only, for both participle and 
noun. Hence, in Baruch iii. 18, which belongs to Hereford, 
we find, ' there is noon ende of the purchasing of hem,' jpur- 
chasing being a verbal noun ; but as, in his translation, the 
true participle almost always ends in -end or -ende, we have, 
Baruch iii. 11, 'Thou art set with men goende down to helle.' 
On the other hand, in verse 25 of the same chapter, in 
Wycliffe's continuation, 'greet and not hauynge eende' occurs, 
though hauynge is a true participle ; and this form is always 
used afterwards. 

Purvey's text of the New Testament is evidently founded on 
Wycliffe's translation, as his Old Testament probably is on that 
of Hereford. Purvey had thought much on the general prin- 
ciples of translation, and especially on the rules to be adopted 
in rendering Latin into a language of so diverse a grammatical 
structure as English. The prologue to his recension, which fills 
sixty large quarto pages in Madden and Forshall's edition of 
the Wycliffite versions, is extremely interesting. I insert; from 
the concluding part of it, a couple of extracts which will give 
the reader some idea both of his style and of his theory of 
translation. 

For these resons and othere, Avith coraune charite to sau8 alle 
men in our© rewme, whiclic God Avole haue sauid, a symple creature 
halli translatid tlio bible out of Latyn into English. First, this symple 



Lect. VIII. PURVEY ON TRANSLATION 363 

creature hadde mj^clie trauaile, witli diiierse felawis and lielperis, to 
gedere manie elde biblis, and otliere doctonris, and comune giosis, and 
to make oo Latyn bible sunidcl trewe ; and tlianne to studie it of tlie 
newe, the text with the glose, and othere doctonris, as he mijte gete, 
and speciali Lire on the elde testament, that helpide ful myclie in this 
werk ; the thridde tyme to counseile with elde gramariens, and elde 
dyuynis, of harde Avordis, and harde sentencis, hoii tho mijten best be 
vndnrstonden and translatid ; the iiij. tyme to translate as cleerli as he 
coude to the sentence, and to hane manie godc felawis andknnnynge at 
the correcting of the translacioun. First it is to knowe, that the best 
translating is out cf Latyn into English, to translate aftir the sentence, 
and not oneli aftir the wordis, so that the sentence be as opin, either 
openere, in English as in Latyn, and go not fer fro the lettre ; and if 
the lettre mai not be suid in the translating, let the sentence euere be 
hocl and open, for the wordis owen to serue to the entent and sentence, 
and ellis the Avordis ben superilu either false. Li translating into 
English, manie resolucions moun make the sentence open, as an ablatif 
case absolute may be resoluid into these thre Avordis wiili couenable 
verbe, the tvJiile, for, if, as gramariens seyn ; as thus, the maistir 
rediiifje, I sfonde, mai be resoluid thus, luhile the maistir redith, 1 
stonde, either if the maistir redith, etc. either /br the maistir, etc. ; and 
sumtyme it wolde acorde wel with the sentence to be resoluid into 
lolianne, either into aftirward, thus, wJianne the maistir red, I stood, 
either aftir the maistir red, I stood; and sumtyme it mai wel be 
resoluid into a verbe of the same tens, as othere ben in the same 
resoun, and into this word et, that is, aiid in English, as thus, arescen- 
tibiis hominihus prm timore, that is, and men shiden luexe drie for drede. 
Also a participle of a present tens, either preterit, of actif vols, eithir 
passif, may be resoluid into a yerbe of the same tens, and a coniunc- 
cioun copulatif, as thus, dicens, that is, seiynge, mai be resoluid thus, 
and seitli eithir that seith ; and this wole, in manie placis, make the 
sentence open, Avhere to Englisshe it aftir the word, wolde be derk and 
douteful. Also a relatif, which mai be resoluid into his antecedent 
with a coniunccioun copulatif, as thus, which renneth, and he renneth. 
Also Avhanne oo word is oonis set in a reesoun, it mai be set forth as 
ofte as it is vndurstonden, either as ofte as reesoun and nede axen ; and 
this word autem, either vei^o, mai stonde fox forsothe, either for hut, and 
thus I vse comounli ; and sumtyme it mai stonde for a?id, as elde 
gramariens seyn. Also whanne rijtful construccioun is lettid bi rela- 
cion, I resolue it openli, thus, where this reesoun, Dominum formida- 
hunt adversarij ejus, shulde be Englisshid thus bi the lettre, the Lord 



364 PURVEY ON TRANSLATION Lect. VIII. 

liise adiiersaries shulen drede^ I Englislie it thus bi resolucioun, the 
ad^iersaries of the Lord shiden drede him; and so of otliere resons that 
ben like. 

Sithen at the bigynnyng of feith so manie men translatiden into 
Latjn, and to greet profyt of Latyn men, lat oo symple creature of God 
translate into English, for profyt of English men ; for if worldli clerkis 
loken wel here croniclis and bokis, thei shulden fynde, that Bede trans- 
latide the bible, and expounide myche in<. Saxon, that was English, 
either comoun langage of this lend, in las tyme ; and not oneli Bede, 
but also king Alured, that foundide Oxenford, translatide in hise laste 
dales the bigynning of the Sauter into Saxon, and wolde more if he 
hadde lyued lengere. Also Frenshe men, Beemers and Britons han the 
bible, and othere bokis of deuocioun and of exposicioun, translatid in 
here modir langage ; whi shulden not English men haue the same in 
here modir langage, I can not wite, no but for falsnesse and necgligence 
of clerkis, either for cure puple is notworthi to haue so greet grace and 
^ifte of God, in peyne of here olde synnes. God for his merci amende 
these euele causis, and make oure puple to haue, and kunne, and kepe 
truli holi writ, to lijf and deth! But in translating of wordis equiuok, 
that is, that hath manie significacions vndur oo lettre, mai li^tli be 
pereil, for Austyn seith in the ij. book of Cristene Teching, that if 
equiuok wordis be not translatid into the sense, either vndurstonding, 
of the autour, it is errour ; as in that j)lace of the Salme, the feet of 
hem hen swifte to shede out blood, the Greek word is equiuok to sharp 
and swift, and he that translatide sharps feet, erride, and a book that 
hath sharpe feet, is fals, and mut be amendid ; as that sentence 
vnlcynde y)nge trees shulen not -ifiue deep rootis, owith to be thus, 
plauntingis of anoutrie shulen not yiue depe rootis. Austyn seith this 
there. Therfore a translatour hath greet nede to studie wel the sentence, 
both bifore and aftir, and loke that suche equiuok wordis acorde Avith 
the sentence, and he hath nede to lyue a clone lif, and be ful deuout in 
preiers, and haue not his wit ocupied about worldli thingis, that the 
Holi Spiryt, autour of wisdom, and kunnyng, and truthe, dresse him 
in his werk, and suffre him not for to erre. Also this word ex signifieth 
sumtyme of, and sumtyme it signifieth hi, as Jerom seith; and this 
word enim signifieth covayvLli forsothe, and, as Jerom seith, it signifieth 
cause thus, forwhi; and this word secundum is taken for aftir, as manie 
men seyn, and comynli, but it signifieth wel hi, eithir vp, thus hi -^oure 
ivord, either vp yyure loord. Manie such aduerbis, coniuncciouns, and 
preposiciouns ben set ofte ecu for a nother, and at fre chois of autouris 



Lect. VIII. THE SACRED DIALECT 365 

sumtyme ; and now tho sliulen be taken as it acordith best to the sen- 
tence. Bi this maner, with good lyuyng and greet trauel, men monn 
come to trewe and cleer translating, and trewe vndurstonding of holi 
writ, seme it neuere so hard at the bigynning. God graunte to us alio 
grace to kunne wel, and kepe wel holi writ, and suiFre ioiefiilli sum 
peyne for it at the laste ! Amen. 

One of the most important effects produced by the Wycliffite 
versions on the English language is, as I have intimated, the 
establishment of what is called the sacred or religious dialect, 
whicli was first fixed in those versions, and has, with little 
variation, continued to be the language of devotion and of 
scriptural translation to the present day. 

This is most obvious in the verbal forms. Chaucer, and 
other secular writers contemporary with Wycliffe, very generally 
use the Anglo-Saxon th as tlie ending of the third person 
singular present indicative of the verb, and frequently, though 
not constantly, in all the persons of the plural and in the im- 
perative, and they also very often employ the plural pronoun 
you, in addressing a single person. Wycliffe constantly, I 
believe, confines the ^A to the singular verb, and never employs 
it for the imperative ; he makes the plural ending in en ; and 
never employs ye or you in the singular number.* All this is 
modern usage, except that en as the plural sign of the verb has 
been dropped. In short, the conjugation of Wycliffe's verbs 
corresponds in all points very nearly to our own, with this dif- 
ference, that in modern times the strong verbs are constantly 
inclining more and more to the weak conjugation.f 

It is curious, that the language of the original works ascribed 
to Wycliffe is much less uniform and systematic than that of 



* Hereford's general use of the verb and pronoun is the same as "WyclifFe's, but 
he makes the imperatiye plural in th. Thus, in Barach ii. 21 — the last passage 
of Hereford's translation, in which the imperative plural occurs — we find : Thus 
seith the Lord, Bowith doun youre shuldris, where Purvey has : Bowe ye youre 
schuldur. In WyclifFe's continuation, the first imp. pi. is in Baruch iv. 9, and the 
ik is dropped : zee nij coostis of Syon, hecre ! 

t See Illustration III., at the end of this lecture. 



366 wycliffe's commentary Lect. vill. 

» 

his translation of the New Testament, the grammar of which, 
instead of varying and fluctuating according to the confused 
usage of most authors of that time, appears to conform to a 
standard deliberately adopted and very regularly followed. 

There is a good deal of difficulty in identifying any extant 
manuscript as, certainly, the work of Wycliffe, hut there are 
several which are ascribed to him with every appearance of 
probability. The following extracts are taken from the pro- 
logue to Luke, in a commentary upon the G-ospels, believed to 
have been composed by him. I print them from the preface 
to Madden and Forshali's edition of the ' Wycliffite Versions,' 
p. ix. 

Herfore [a pore] caityf, lettid fro prechyng for a tyme for causes 
knowun of God, writitli the gospel of Luk in Englysh, with a short 
exposicioun of olde and holy doctouris, to the pore men of his nacioun 
whiche kunnen litil Latyn ether noon, and ben pore of wit and of 
worldli catel, and netheles riche of good v»dll to please God. Firste 
this pore caitif settith a ful sentence of the text togiclre, that it may 
wel be knowmi fro the exposicioun ; aftirward he settith a sentence of 
a doctonr declarynge the text ; and in the ende of the sentence he 
settith the doctouris name, that men mowen knowe verili hou fer his 
sentence goith. Oneli the text of holi writ, and sentence of olde doc- 
touris and apprcuyd, ben set in this exposicioun. 

If eny lernyd man se this exposicioun and suppose eny errour 
therynne, for Goddis loue loke he wel his originals, and sette ynne the 
treue sentence of these doctouris ; for men desiren no thing in this ex- 
posicioun, no but profitable treuthe for cristen soulis. Y sette sliortly 
and pleynly, as Y m^ay and kan, the sentence of these doctouris, and 
not barely her wordis, in as myche as thei declaren the text, and seyen 
treuthe groundid on holi Scripture ether quyk- resoun, and accordynge 
with the blessid lijf of Crist and his apostlis; desirynge that no man 
triste more than thus to her sentence, nether to eny mannys seying, in 
what euer staat he be in erthe. Thus with Goddis grace pore cristen 
men moAvn sumdel knowe the text of the Gospel, with the comyn 
sentence of olde holy doctouris, and therynne knowe the meke and 
pore and charitable lyuyng of Crist and his apostlis, to sue hem in 
vertues and blys; and also knowe the proude and coueitouse and 
veniable lyuyng of Antecrist and his fautouris, to fie hem and her 



Lect. VIII. wycliffe's APOLoaY 367 

cursid dedis, and peynes of helle. For no donte as oure Lord Jliesu 
Crist and liis apostlis profesien pleynli, Antecrist and his cursid 
disciplis slinlen come, and disseyne many men by ypocrisie and 
tyraimtrie ; and the beste armeer of cristen men a^ens this cursid 
cheuenteyn with his oost, is the text of holy writ, and namely the 
gospel, and veri and opj^n ensaimiple of Cristis lijf and his apostli?, 
and good lyuyng of men ; for thanne thei shulen knowe Avel Antecrist 
and his mejaiee bi her oj)yn dedis contrarie to Cristis techyng and 
lyu^mg. Crist Jhesu, for thyn cndeles jDOwer, mercy and charitie, 
make thi blessid lawe knowun and kept of thi puple, and make knowun 
the ypocrisie and tirauntrie and cursidnesse of Antecrist and his 
meynee, that thi puple be not disseyued bi hem. Amen, gode Lord 
Jhesu. 

I add chapters v. and xvi. from the ' Apology for the Lol- 
lards,' ascribed, upon probable grounds, to Wy cliff e, and pub- 
lished by tiie Camden Society. These chapters are fair spe- 
cimens of Wycliffe's argumentation, but b}^ no means of his 
declamation, and of his invective, which he ca,rries to lengths 
of great severity, exposing with an unsparing hand the eccle- 
siasticeJ abuses of his time. 

An opei' is pis ];at is put and askid, J)at ilk prest may vse J)e key in to 
ilk man. To Jus, me pinki]?, I may wel sey }?us, syn al power is of God, 
and, as j.^e gospel sei]?, per is no power but of God, ne man may do no 
ping, but if he jeue him pe mijt ; as Crist seip, je may wip out me do 
no ping, pat onely a man vse his power in to ilk ping, as God werkip bi 
him, and lefip him to vse it vnblamfully, and no forper, and fro pat may 
no man lette him. And pis is pat we sey, pat we may of rijt so, if per 
be ani vsing of pov^er, or callid power, pat is not bi Crist, pat is no 
power, but fals pride, and presumid, and onli in name, and as to jend 
and effect is nowgt. Neuerpeles, a man is seid to haue power, and leue 
to vse power, in many wyse, as sum bi lawe and ordre of kynd, sum bi 
laAve and ordre of grace, and some bi lawe and ordre made and writun. 
And so it is seid bi lawe pat is mad of pe kirk, pat ilk prest hap pe 
same power to vse pe key in to ani man in po poynt of dep, as ])e 
pope ; but not ellis, not but autorite in special be geumi to him of pe 
kirk per to. But if it be askid, if ilk prest mai vse pe key in to ilk 
man, pat is to sey, to assoile him, or ellis to bmd him fro grace, it semip 
opunly ])at ilk prest may not asoile ilk to bring him to heuyn ; for pa 
gospel seip, pat Crist in a coost of pe Jewis rnigt not do ari vertu per, 



368 WYCLIFFE's APOLOOY Lect. VIII. 

for Ipe vntrou]), not but lielid a few seek, ])e handiis leyd vpon, and he 
maruelid for per vntrow]? ; pan, wan Crist, pat is God Almijty, and of 
his absolnt power may al ping, and no ping is vnpossible to him, nor no 
ping may ajen stond him, and jet may not of his ordinat power jele pe 
folk for per ontrowp, and vndisposicoun, and vnabilite to reseyue, mich 
more ani oper benep may not help, but after pe disposiconn of him pat 
receynip. Al so it semip bi pis, pat pe pope may not bring in to grace, 
ne bles, him pat lastip in vntrowp, and in per synnis ; os it semip bi 
Jewes and Saracenis and oper swilk, os is witnessid, and of feipful 
witnes. Also God jaue him no farrer power, not but asoyl hem pat 
wil lene per synne, or to bynd hem and curse pat wil dure per inne. 
And bi so pe same resoun none oper prest may not excede. And if it 
be axid weper ilk prest hap as mykil power as pe pope, as a nenist God, 
it semip to me pat is foly to a ferme in pis case oiper gie or nay, be for 
pat it mai be schewid out of Holi Writte. And so it semip al so to me 
it is foly ani prest to presume him to haue euyn power wip ilk oper, be 
for pat he may ground him in ]?e feip ; and foli it were to deme to ani 
man any power pat God hap jeuun to him, or pe vsyng per of; for 
certeyn I am, how euer ani man tak power to him, or vse power, it 
profip not, but in as myche as God jeuip it, and wirkip wip it, and con- 
fermip it ; and certayn I am, pat pe power pat God jaue Petre, he gaue 
it not to him alone, ne for him alone, but he jaue it to pe kirk, and for 
po kirk, and to edifying of al pe kirk; os he jeuip pe sijt of pe ee, or 
pe act of ani membre of pe body, for help and edifying of al ])e body. 
And Sent Jerom seip, Sum tyme. pe prest was pat ilk pat pe bischop. 
And bi for pat bats were made in religioun bi stinging of pe fend, and 
was scid in pe peple, I am of Petre, I of Poule, I of Apollo, I of 
Cephas, pe kirkis were gouernid bi ])e comyn of prestis comiseil. But 
after pat ilk man callid him pat he baptijid his, and not Grists, pan was 
in al pe world wordeynid pat on of pe prestis schuld be made cheie, 
and pe seedis of scysmis schuld be tan a wey. per as prestis wit hem to 
be to per souereynis sogets be custum of pis kirk, so knaw bischopis 
hem to be more of custum pan of dispensacoun of Goddis trowp, to per 
sogets, pe more per souereyns, and in comyn pei Owe to gouern pe kirk. 
Lo I sey bischops present, and pat pei stondun nere him, prests mai in 
pe autere mak pe sacrament. But for it is Avritun, Prestis pat prestun 
wel bi pei worpi had dowble honor, most ])at pei trauel in word and 
teching : it semip hem to preche, it is profit to bles, it is congrew to 
sacre, it cordip to hem to jeue comyn, it is necesari to hem to visit pe 
sek, to pray for pe vnmijti, and to fele of pe sacraments of God. per- 
for non of pe bischopis, enblawen wip enuy of pe fendis temptacoun, 



Lect. VIII. wtcliffe's apology 369 

wra]7, if prestis ouerwile exort or monest ])e peple, if j^ei preclie in 
kirk, if pey blesse ]>e floe, for I sclial sey ])us to liym fat werni]) me 
peis ]>ings, lie pat wil not prestus do ]nng ]>nt ])ei are bidun of God, sey 
he wat is more pan Crist? or wat may be put beforn his flesch and blode? 
And if pe prest sacre Crist "wan he blessip J>e sacrament of God in ]?e 
anter, awi]? he not to blessip pe peple, pat dredi]> not to sacre Crist ? A 
je vniust prestis porow gor bidding pe prest of God stintip pe office of 
blessing, a bowt IcAvid men and women ; he stintip pe wark of tong, he 
hap no tryst of preching, he is dockid on ilk part, he hap only pe name 
of prest, but he holdip not pe plente ne pe perfecconn pat fallip to his 
consecracoun. I pray joav prestis wat honor is pis to jow, pat je bring 
in pe damage of alle pe folke ? for wan wor])i diligence is taken a wey fro 
prestis bi power, sum smiting of mischef rysip in pe flok; and ge geyt 
harme of pe Lordis patrimoyn, til je alon wil be potentats in pe kirk. 
And for pi seyn oper men pus, if a bischop in conferming ]}at he appro- 
prip to him silf wip out ground of pe Scripter, jeuip grace, whi not a 
simple prest pat in merit is more at God, of mor merit, gefe mor worpi 
sacraments ? Sum tyme was no resomi, wan pe same was bischop and 
prest. And bi forn pat presthed was hied, or veriliar filyd cursidly bi 
pe world, ilk prest of Crist was callid indifferently prest and bischop, 
as it semip be pe wordis of Jerom. — [Chap. V.] 

An oper poynt pat is putt is pis, pat per is no pope ne Cristis vicar, 
but an holy man. pis may pus be prouid ; for him be ho^vuip to be 
halowid wip pe sacrament of baptem, and of presthed, and of dignite. 
And oft is bidun to prestis in pe lawe to be holy and halow oper ; and 
for hoyle of halo wing of pe Lord is vp on hem. Also pus prayip Crist 
for alle his, Fader, haloAv hem in trowp, pi word is trowp, as pu hast 
send [me] in to pe world, so haue I send hem in pe world, and for hem 
I halow myself, ]'at pei be halowid in trowp. And pus is hadde in 
decreis ; Lo it aperip how pei schal schap pe perel of pe charge, pat pey 
be polid to minister prestly oper sacraments, for pey are remeuid fro pis 
not only for heresy, or oper ilk gretter syn, but also for negligens. In 
wilk pingis bysily it is to not, pat pe sacrament of presthed befor oper, 
more worpily, and wip cure, is to be jeuen and tane ; for but if it be 
so jeuen and tane, it schal fuyle to be rate or ferme, os it is not periitly 
done. Oj^er sacramentis are jeuen to ilk man for himsilf, and silk pey 
are to ilk man as ])ei are tane wi]) hart and concience ; but pis is not 
only jeuen for hem silf but for oper, and j^erfor is nede it be tane wip 
verrey hart and clene concience for him self, and as to oper, not only 
wip out ilk synne, but also wip out ilk name of fame, for schunder of 
breper, to was profit presthed is geuen, not only pat men prest, or be 

BB 



370 wycliffe's influence Lect. VIIT. 

boun, but ]7at "pej prophet, fis f e decre. Lo it semij? pat lie is not 
lijtly nor profi^tly Grists pope ne his vicar but if lie be boli, ellis wlii 
is lie callid holiest fadir ? Jerom sei]), pei ]9at ordeyn of J^er assessory 
in to prestis, and putten hem per lif in to sclaundre of pe peple, ]?ei 
are gilty of pe vnfeipfulnes of hem pat are sclaundred. For sop pei are 
chosun to ]>is to be prestis to pe peple, as pei ordeynid befor to clignite, 
so pey liaii5t to schine be for in holines, ellis whi are pei preferrid to 
oper pat passun in grace of meritis. And perfor seip pe pope Symaclms, 
He is to be coimtid most vile, pat is befor in dignite, but if he precelle 
in sciens and holines. pe Lord seip bi pe prophet, for pu hast putt a 
wey sciens, I schal put pe a wey pat pu vse not presthed to nie. pe 
dede of pe bischop houwip to passe a bone pe lif of pe peple, as pe lif 
of pe gerd transcendi]? pe lif of pe scliep, as Gregori seip. And Bernard 
seip to pope Eugeni, pi felawis bischops lere pei at pe to haue not wip 
hem childer so curhid, nqr ^eng men kembid or compert ; certeyn it 
semip not chapletid men to ren among pe mytrid vncorteysly ; pof pu 
desire to be prest, or be befor to hem ])at pu coueitist not to profijt to, 
ouer proudly in coueiting subieccoun of hem, of pe wilk ]ni hernist 
not pere gele. — [Chap. XVI.] 

The uniformity of diction and grammar in Wycliffe's New 
Testament gave that work a weight, as a model of devotional 
composition and scriptural phraseology, which secured its ge- 
neral adoj)tion ; and not only the special forms I have men- 
tioned, but many other archaisms of the standard translation, 
both in vocabulary and in syntax, were adopted by Purvey and 
Tyndale from Wj^cliffe, and by the revisers of 1611 from 
Tyndale, and have thus remained almost Avithout change for 
500 years. In fact, so much of the Wycliffite sacred dialect is 
retained in the standard version, that though a modern reader 
may occasionally be embarrassed by an obsolete word, idiom, or 
spelling, which occurs in Wycliffe's translation, yet if the great 
reformer himself were now to be restored to life, he would 
probably be able to read our common Bible from beginning to 
end, without having to ask the explanation of a single passage. 

The works of Langlande and of Wycliffe, especially the 
latter, introduced into English a considerable number of words 
directly or indirectly derived from the Latin. They produced 



Lect. viii. langlande and wycliffe 371 

a still greater effect on the common speech of the land, by- 
popularizing very many Latin and, Eomance words, which 
there is reason to think, had never before acquired a familiar 
currency, but had been confined to the dialect of books, or at 
least to the conversation of the regularly educated classes. 

The circulation of Piers Ploughman among these classes was 
obstructed by its poetic form, which — though a recommenda- 
tion in the eyes of the masses who know poetry only as an oral 
chant — was fatal to its success in literary circles ; for the de- 
liberate opinion and taste of the educated public had con- 
demned alliterative and rhythmic verse as a barbarous relic of 
an age of inferior culture. 

Wycliife, too, was, in a great measure, excluded from the 
same circles, by the combined authority of the State and the 
Church, which had denounced the reformer, his opinions, and 
his translations, as heretical, and therefore as treasonable.* 
Hence they were circulated and read chiefly by persons whose 
humble station eoabled them to enjoy a privacy in their studies, 
which the conspicuous position of men of higher rank in the 
social hierarchy put quite out of their reach. Still, the con- 
troversial writings and the translations of the early reformers 
very sensibly affected the theological and ethical nomenclatui'es 
of the English language in all succeeding time ; and many of 
the very best features of our modern version of the Scriptures 
are due to their labours. They also, no doubt, contributed 
indirectly to the copiousness and force of literary diction ; but 
this effect was produced, not because they were regarded as 
authorities in langua^ge, and studied as models of composition 

* * In this oevo,' says Capgraye, 'the Pope wrote special! to the Kyng for 
these Lolardis, trctoiiris to God and to the Kyng. In his letteris he prayed the 
Kyng that he schuld be redy to punche al thoo whom the bischoppis dedared for 
heretikes.'— C/^?-o«icZf, a.d. 1394, p. 261, 262. 

While the king was resisting the pope's wishes for the repeal of the obnoxious 
statutes, he was willing enough to accept the support of the Lollards; but, that 
question settled, he was as 'redy to _pzM2C^e' them as bloody Queen Mary her- 
self a hundred and fifty years later. 

BB 2 



572 LANGLANDE AND WYCLIFFB Lect. VIll. 

or as repositories of an enlarged vocabulary, but because they 
bad enriched the every-day speech of the people, and thus 
increased the affluence of that fountain which is the true source 
whence all great national poets draw their stock of living and 
breathing words. 

Although Langlande and the school of Wycliffe are not to be 
looked upon as great immediate agencies in the general im- 
provement of written English, or as standards of the literary 
dialect in their own age, there can be little doubt that they did 
exercise a direct influence upon the diction of Chaucer, and, 
though him, on the whole literature of the nation. 

It is well known that the political party to whose fortunes 
Chaucer was attached, and of which he was a conspicuous 
mem])er, was inclined to favour and protect Wycliffe and his 
followers ; and it must, of course, have sympathized, so far as a 
mediaeval aristocracy could do so, with the popular body which 
constituted the real public both of the theologian and of Piers 
Ploughman. Hence it is not possible that Chaucer should 
have been unacquainted with the writings of the poet, or of the 
religious reformers; nor could a scholar of his acute philo- 
logical sensibility have perused those remarkable works, with- 
out at once perceiving that they contained a mine of verbal 
wealth, a vast amount of the richest crude material for poetical 
elaboration. 

Of such resources a genius like Chaucer could not fail to 
avail himself, and I have no doubt that the great superiority of 
his style over that of his contemporaries, and the more -ad- 
vanced character of his diction, are to be ascribed in some 
degree to his use of these means of improvement, — means 
which the more fastidious taste, or the religious and political 
prejudices, of other poets of the age prevented them from re- 
sorting to. 



Lect. Vlll. MGESO-GOTIIIC TEXT 373 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



M(ESO-GOTIIIC TEXT OF THE EIGHTH CHAPTER OF MATTHEW. 

1. Dala]? ]7au atgaggandin imma af fairgiinja, laistideduu afar imma 
iumjons managos. 

2. Jail sai, manna prutsfill liabands durinnands invait ina qij^ands : 
frauja, jabai vileis, magt mik gahrainjan. 

3. Jail iifrakjands liandu attaitok imma qij^ands: viljau, vair]) lirains! 
jah suns hrain yar]) ]?ata ])rutsfill is. 

4. Jah qa]7 imma lesus : saiw, ei mann ni qij^ais, ak gagg, ]?uk silban 
ataugei giidjin jali atbair giba, }>oei anabau]) Moses dii veitvodipai im. 

5. Afariih pan fata innatgaggandin imma in Kafarnaum, dnatiddja 
imma liundafa])s bidjands ina 

6. jail qi]7ands: frauja, piumagus meins ligi}> in garda uslij^a, 
harduba balvijjs. 

7. Jail qa]? du imma lesus : ik qimands galiailja ina. 

8. Jail andbafiands sa hundafaps qa]? : frauja, ni im vair])s, ei uf 
hrot mein inngaggais, ak J^atainei qi]? vaurda jali galiailni]? sa ])iumagus 
meins. 

9. Jail auk ik manna im liabands uf valdufnja meinamma gadi-aulitins, 
jail qi]7a du |)amma: gagg, jali gaggip; jali an])aranima: qim jab qimij»; 
jab du skalka meinamma : tavei ])ata, jab tauji}>. 

10. Galiausjands ])an lesus sildaleikida jab qa]> du |)aim afarlaistjan- 
dam : amen, qij'a izvis, ni in Israela svalauda galaubein bigat. 

11. Aj>}7an qi]?a izvis, ]7atei managai fram m-runsa jab saggqa qimand 
jab anakumbjand mi]> Abraliama jab Isaka jab lakoba in }>iudangardjai 
Limine ; 

12. i]> ]jai sunjus ]?iudangardjos, usvairpanda in riqis ]?ata bindumisto; 
jainar yairpi]) grets jab krusts tunl»ive. 

13. Jab qa]7 lesus l^amma bundafada : gagg jab svasve galaubides, 
vair]7ai fus. Jab gabailnoda sa ]>iumagus is in jainai weilai. 

14. Jah qimands lesus in garda Paitraus jah gasaw svailiron is 
ligandein in beiton. 

15. Jah attaitok handau izos jab aflailot ija so heito ; jah urrais jah 
andbahtida imma. 



374 MCESO-GOTHIC TEXT Lect. Vlll. 

16. At andanalitja pan vaurjmnamma, atberun du imma daimonarjana 
managans jah usvarp pans alimans vaurda jah allans pans ubil habandans 
gahailida, * 

17. ei usfuUnodedi pata gamelido pairli Esaian praufetu qipandan: 
sa unmalitins unsaros usnam jali sauhtins usbar. 

18. Gasaiwands pan lesus managans hiulimans bi sik, haihait 
galeipan siponjans hindar niarein. 

19. Jah duatgaggands ains bokareis qap du imma : laisari, laistja 
puk, piswaduh padei gaggis. 

20. Jail qap du imma lesus: faulions grobos aigun jali fuglos 
liiminis sitlaus, ip sunus mans ni habaip, war haubip sein anabnaivjai. 

21. Anparuh pan siponje is qap du imma: frauja uskiubei mis 
frumist galeipan jali gafillian attan meinana. 

22. Ip lesus qap du imma : laistei afar mis jah let ]>ans daupans 
filhan seinans daupans. 

23. Jah inatgaggandin imma in skip, afariddjedun imma siponjos is. 

24. Jah sai, vegs mikils varp in marein, svasve pata skip gahulip 
vairpan fram vegim ; ip is saislep. 

25. Jah duatgaggandans siponjos is urraisidedun ina qipandans: 
frauja, nasei unsis, fraqistnam. 

26. Jah qap du iin lesus: wa faurhteip, leitil galaubjandans I 
panuli urreisands gasok vindam jah marein, jah varp vis mikil. 

27. Ip pai mans sildaleikidedun qipandans: wileiks ist sa, ei jah 
vindos jah marei ufhausjand imma? 

28. Jah qimandin imma hindar marein in gauja Gairgaisaine, gamo- 
tidedun imma tvai daimonarjos us hlaivasnom rinnandans, sleidjai filu, 
svasve ni mahta manna usleipan pairh pana vig jainana. 

29. Jah sai, hropidedun qipandans: wa uns jah pus, lesu, sunau 
gups ? qamt her faur mel balvjan unsis ? 

30. Vasuli pan fairra im hairda sveine managaize haldana. 

31. Ip po skohsla bedun ina qipandans: jabai usvaii-pis uns, uslau- 
bei uns galeipan in po hairda sveine. 

32. Jah qap du im : gaggip ! Ip eis usgaggandans galipun in hairda 
sveine; jah sai, run gavain^htedun sis alia so hairda and driuson in 
marein jah gadaupnodedun in vatnam. 

33. Ip pai haldandans gaplauhun jah galeij?andaiis gataihun in baurg 
all bi pans daimonarjans. 

34. Jah sai, alia so baurgs usiddja vipra lesu jah gasaiwandaua ina 
bedun, ei uslijji hindar markos ize. 



Lect. VIII. GEEEK TEXT 375 

GREEK TEXT OF EIGHTH CHAPTER OF MATTHEW. 

* KaTct(3dvTt de avKo utvu tov opovg rjico\nvQr](Tav avrio oyXoi TtoWoi' 
^ Koi Idov XeTrpoQ irpofreXOojy TTpoaeKvvu avrio Xiyoiv Kvpie, eav di\7]c, 
^vvaaai jjis KaQapiaai. ^ koX kKTiiuaQ t)]v X^~ipo. i}\ljaro avrov Xiyuiv 
QeXio, KadapiadrjTt. kcu rvOewg tKadapiadi} avrov i] Xiirpa. ^KoXXiyei. 
av-(o 6 ^Ir}aovg"Opa firj^ei'l ei7rr]c, ciXXa. v-ayE aeavTOV ZeityOV rw iepei^ 
Kai ■Kpotrii'eyKov to ZCjpov o TrpoaeTci^ey Mwvffvc* ^*? fxaprvpioy avrolg. 

^ RlffeXOoi'Ti da avTO) eiQ Kaoapi'ttovfi TTpoariXdev avTW kKaroi'TapyoQ 
irapaKoXCJv avTOV ^ Kal Xiyioi' Kvpie, o Ttaig fxov J3i(3Xr]rai eu rij ohig. 
'iidpaXvTiKuc^ deu'Qg (DaGai'ii^OfiEvoc. ^ Xiyei avru) '£yw eXdwv dspaTTeveru} 
avTov. ^ Kai uTTOi^pideig 6 ktcarovrap-^ug E(pr] Kvpte, ovi: elfil hai^og 'iva 
fiov VTTO Tijy ffTeyrjv ElaeXdrjg* aXXa fiovoy eItte Xoyw, Kai ladfjaErai 6 
TTttte fiov. ^ Kai yap tyw ai'dpiCTVog ElfXL v~o Itovaiav, E\(jt)v vir kfinvrov 
(rrpariwracj Kai Xiyu) tovto) Ilop£vd}]Ti, Ka\ TropEverai, Ka\ uXXm" Ep-)(^ov, Kai 
Ep-^ETai' Kai T(o EovXo) [jIOv UoiTjaoy TOVTO, Kai ttoieI. ^^ aKovaag Ze o'lrjaovg 
idavf-iacrEy Kai elTTEyro'ig aKoXovdovcny A^//i^ Xiyio vfiiy, Trap' oiidayl Toaav- 
Tr]v TTiffTiy Ev rw 'lapaijX tvpoy. ^^ Xiyio Ie vfiiy on ttoXXoI citto avaroXojy 
Kai ^v(jfj,u>y ijt,ov(ny Kai aj'a(cAi9//crovrat f.iETa 'Appact/^ Kai 'Icraa^.• Kai 
*IaKiof3 ky TTj (jaaiXEia tCov ovpavii)y' ^^ oi Ze viol Tyg (DaatXEiag EK(3Xr]df]" 
aovTai Eig ro aKorog to EL,bJTEpoy* ekeI sorat 6 KXavdftdg Kai 6 jSpvyjiog 
Twy oBoyTOjy. ^^Kal Eiirsy 6 ^Iqo-oug rw £KaToyTa.p)(^}]"Y7rayE, ojg EiricrTEV' 
nag y£yr]d)^Tii) aoi. Kai ladrj o Trdlg avTov kv ttj Copq. EKEivrj. 

^*Kal iXdiby 6 'Irjcrovg etc T7]y oiKiay IlErpov el^ev Trjy TTEvOepav avrov 
jjejjXTjfXEyijy Kai Ttvpiaaovaav. ^^ Kai rjyharo rrig ■yeipog uvtT)Cj Kai acp^- 
KEV avTYiv b TTvpETOc, Kai ijyipdr], Kol ZirjKoyEi avrS. ^^ 6\piag ca yEvo- 
lxEvr]g TvpofftjyeyKay avr^ oaifioyi^oniyovg TtoXXovg, Kai k^iljaXEy rh 
TTVEvaara Xoyip, Kai Trarrag rove KaKwg 'ixoyrag kdEpaiTEvaEy, ^^ oiriog rrXr}- 
pwdi] TO p7]dEy did 'liaa'tov rod Trpocpijrov Xiyovrog Avrog rag aadEVEiag ij^tuiy 
tXa/jer, /cat rag vocrovg kl^acrraaEy. ^^^iliov de 6 ^l-qaovg tvoXXovc oyXovg 
TTEol avrov kKeXEvaay cnrEXOaly Elg ro Tripay. ^^ Kai TrpoaeXdioy Eig ypajj.- 
liaTEvg EiTTEy avru AtCctfTAraXt, uKoXovQi](Tia aoi otzov kdy cnripj^rj. ^^ Kai 
XiyEL avrio 6 'Ir^couc At aXojTTEKEg (puiXEOvg EyovaLV^ Kai rd TTETEiyd rov 
ovpavou KaraffKrjvojffEigf 6 Be vlog rov ayOpuj—oxf ovk e-^ei ttov ttIjv KE(l)aXrjy 
KXiyr], 2^ ETEpog ck twv /j.adqrioy avrov el— ay awrw Kupte, ETrirpaxpoy jj-ol 
TcpCJroy aTTEXQEly Kai da\pat roy Tvaripa piov. -^ 6 Be 'Irjcrovg XiyEt avrw 
'A^koXovOei /.lotf Kai acpag rovg yaKpovg Oa-ipai rovg kavribv vtKpovg. 

^^Kal kfiftdt'Ti avTo) Eig TvXo^ov ijKoXovdijcray avr^ ol fiadrjral avrov, 
^^ Kai Idoi) (TEtcTjddg fxayag kyEVETO kv rrj daXdcxarrjy uxtte to ttXoIov KaXv" 
'TTTEadai VTTO Tojy KVfidrojy* avrog Be kKciOavdEV, ^5 ^^^^ TrpocTEXdovTEg oi 
fiadrjral ijyEipay avrov XiyovTEg Kvpis auKToVy diroXXvfXEda, ^^ Kai Xiyei 



376 purvey's revision Lect. vill. 

avrolg Tt ^eiXoi iffra oXtyoTrtoroi ; tote £yEp6e\s eTrtrijjrjffey roig arcjuoic 
Koi r?] OaXacrarj, Kai kyevETO yaXrivrj HEyaXr}. 27 qI ^^ avOpiorroi kdav' 
fiaaav XiyoiTEQ UoraTrog iariv ovtoq, on Kal ol avEfiOL kol rj daXatraa 
VTraKovovmv avru) ; 

28 Kctt iXQavTi avro) tig to iripav Eig rrjv '^<j>paif twv V(ilapr]vwv, viri]V' 
TYjaav uvTM Zvo taiii0VLci6j.iEV0L Etc TuJv fxvr}fjiEi(x)y f^cp)(OjU£^'ot, ')(aXETroi 
Xiai', uKTTE fjij layvELV tlvo. TrapEXdely did Trjg odov EKEivY]g. ^^ Kai ihov 
EKpa^ap XiyovTEg Tt ijjiiv Koi col, vie tov deov ; i'jXOeq lodE irpo Kaipov 
(jacravtaciL yfxag; ^^ i)y ^e fxatcpdv utt' avnZy ayeXj] '^(o'lpiav ttoXXiZj' /3o- 
(TKOjuiyr}' ^i ol ci dalfJot'Eg TcapEKaXovv avTovXiyovTEg Et EKJ3aXXEigi}fjLdc, 
aTToarEiXov yi-idg Eig tijv ayiXtju tCjv ycipiov. ^'^ Koi eItvev avrdlg 'Y7rd- 
yETE. ol Ie it,e\d6vTEg aTrijXdoy Eig ?■;)»/ ciyiXrjV TiZy j^oipioV koX Idov 
CipjiriffEV Trdaa // uyiXr) rCJv -ypipiov Kara rod Kprjfjiyov Elg tyiv OaXatrcrar, 
Kal aTziQavov ei> rdlg vlaair. ^^ ol Ze (oocrKOVTEg E(l)vyov, Kal aizEXdovTEg 
tig TYiv TToXty UTzqyyeiXay Trayra, Kal rd Tujy daijJioyt^OfjiEyioy. ^^ Kal Idov 
Ttdaa r/ iroXig E^rjXOey Elg ffvydyTr}(TLy rw ^Irjaov' kol Idoyreg avToy Trape- 
KaXsaay OTZwg fiErafjij diro ToJy opiwy avruiy, 

II. 

PSALM CII. (cm.) FROM PDRYET's REYISION. 

Mi soule, blesse thou the Lord ; and alle thiiigis that ben with ynne 
me, hlesse his hooli name. Mi soule, blesse thou the Lord ; and nyle 
thou forjete alle the ;5eldyngis of him. Which doith merci to alle thi 
wickidnessis ; which heelith alle thi sijknessis. Which a^enbieth thi 
lijf fro deth; which corowneth thee in merci and merciful doyngis. 
Which fillith thi desijr in goodis ; thi jongthe schal be renulid as the 
"ipngthe of an egle. The Lord doynge mercies ; and doom to alle men 
suffringe wrong. He made hise weies knowun to Moises ; his willis to 
the sones of Israel. The Lord is a merciful doer, and merciful in 
wille ;. longe abidinge, and myche merciful. He schal not be wrooth 
with outen ende ; and he schal not thretne with outen ende. He dide 
not to vs aftir oure synnes ; nether he jeldide to vs aftir oure wickid- 
nessis. For bi the hijnesse of heuene fro erthe ; he made strong his 
merci on men dredynge hym. As myche as the eest is fer fro the 
west ; he made fer oure wickidnessis fro vs. As a fadir hath merci on 
Bones, the Lord hadde merci on men dredynge him ; for he knewe oure 
makyng. He bithoujte that we ben dust, a man is as hey; his dai 
schal ilowre out so as a flour of the feeld. For the spirit schal passe in 
hym, and schal not abide ; and schal no more knowe his place. But 



Lect. Vlir. REGULAR AND IRREGULAR VERBS 377 

the merci of the Lord is fro with ont bigynnyng, and til in to with 
outen ende ; on men dredinge hym. And his rijtfulnesse is in to the 
sones of sones; to hem that kepen his testament. And ben myndeful 
of hise comaimdementis ; to do tho. The Lord hath maad redi his 
seete in heuene; and his rewme schal be lord of alle. Aungels of the 
Lord, blesse je the Lord ; je mypi in vertii, doynge his word, to here 
the vois of his wordis. Alle vertues of the Lord, blesse je the Lord ; 
je mynystris of hym that doen his wille. Alle werkis of the Lord, 
blesse ^e the Lord, in ech place of his lordschipe ; my soule, blesse 
thou the Lord. 



m. 

CHANGE OF IRREGULAR INTO REGULAR TERRS. 

This is an instance of the same tendency to regularity of form which 
was mentioned in a note on the Italian dialects, in a former lecture. 

I think it much to be regretted that English grammarians have so 
generally adopted the designations weak and strong, instead of the old 
terms regular and irregular conjugation. I do not contend for the im- 
portance of a descriptive nomenclature in any branch of science, and I 
have given my opinions on the subject, at some length, in the ninth 
lecture in my First Series. But scientific designations which assume to 
be descriptive onght to be truly so, and this the temis regular and 
irregular, as applied to the English verb, eminently are, Avhile the 
epithets weah and strong are not so in any sense. That is regular 
which conforms to the rule or type most generally adopted; or, if there 
be several models or standards, of equal authority, then that is regular 
which conforms to any of them. Now the only general rule for the 
conjugation of modern English verbs is that the past tense and passive 
participle are alike, and that both are formed by the addition of d or cd 
to the stem. It is true that among the few English verbs which inflect 
by letter-change, instead of by augmentation, small groups may be 
formed which agree in their mode of changing the stem ; and these are 
often the modern forms of verbs which once were numerous enough to 
constitute an entire conjugation, sufficiently regular to be referred to a 
fixed type. But, in most cases, so large a proportion of the verbs 
composing these conjugations have been lost, and those remaining have 
been so much varied in inflection, that the ancient regularity is gone, 
and they can no longer be divided into normal classes. Goold Bro-\vn, 
in his very valuable ' Grammar of Grammars,' states the number of 



378 EEGULAR AND IIIIIEGULAII VEHB3 Lecp. VIII. 

* irregular ' verbs in English at ' about one liundred and ten ; ' but as, 
though he introduces Iceep into his list, he omits creep, it is probable 
that he has overlooked others, and the real number is, no doubt, con- 
siderably larger. Of these strong or irregular verbs, not more than 
five agree in any one mode of inflection ; in most cases but two or 
three are conjugated alike, and in very many the verb has no parallel 
at all. It is further to be observed, that in several instances these 
pairs or triplets of verbs, though now conjugated alike, were not so 
originally, and therefore they are doubly irregular, as conforming 
neither to the most frequent present mode of conjugation, nor to their 
own primitive type. For example, creep, keep, and sleep form the past 
tense and passive participle alike — crept, kept, slept : but the Anglo- 
Saxon creopan made past creap, plural crupon ; cepan, cepte; 
and slapan, slep, participle si dp en. Keep, then, is the only one of 
the three which conforms to ancient precedent. It should however be 
noted that in Matthew viii. 24, the Lindisfarne text has geslepde, 
the Rushworth slepte, and both WycliiFe and Purvey slepte, for the 
regular Anglo-Saxon slep. 

It is objected to the term regular, that the forms it designates are 
more modern than the inflections by letter-change, which, it is 
insisted, are remains of primitive modes of regular conjugation ; but 
this objection has no force, because we may admit a form to be regular, 
without insisting that it is primitive ; and what are called the strong 
verbs in English are most truly described as irregular, because they do 
not agree in conjugation, either with each other, or with the Saxon 
verbs from which they are descended. For all the purposes of English 
grammar, regular and irregular are the best inflectional designations 
that have been proposed ; and though, in the nomenclature of compara- 
tive philology, terms are wanted which shall distinguish augmentative, 
inflections from those by letter-change, it is better to employ, in teach- 
ing English, the old phraseology, until some more appropriate, or at 
least less misleading, terms than weak and strong, shall be suggested. 



LECTUEE IX. 

CHAUCER AND GOWER 

Before entering upon the special subject of the present lecture 

— the literary and philological merits of Chaucer and of G-ower 

— it will be well to take a retrospective view of the condition of 
the English language at the period of Chaucer's birth, to glance 
summarily at the causes of the revolution it soon after under- 
went, and to consider the mode in which great authors influence 
the development of their native tongue in primitive eras of lite- 
rature. 

The controlling power and wealth of a nobilitj^-, French in 
parentage or descent, and the consequent adoption of the Anglo- 
Norman as the dialect of the court, of parliament, of the judicial 
tribunals, and of such of the foreign clergy as resided upon 
their ecclesiastical benefices in England, had, at the end of the 
thirteenth centur}^, reduced English to little more than a lingua 
rustica, which was thought hardly y^rorthy, or even capable, of 
literary culture; and the slender merits of Eobert of Grloucester 
and Eobert of Brunne were little calculated to raise the vulgar 
patois in the estimation of educated men. 

Had the British crown won the permanent and established 
extension of its territorial possessions on the Continent, which 
the splendid series of victories that marked the best years of 
the reign of Edward III. seemed to promise, the relative im- 
portance and more advanced refinement and civilization of the 
Anglo-French provinces — which embraced the whole extent of 



380 ENGLISH OF FOURTEENTH CENTURY Lect. IX. 

the Atlantic coast of France — would have given them a weight 
and a predominance in the social and political life of the king- 
dom, that could not have failed to be fatal to the national spirit 
and the national language of the English people. The reverses 
of the latter years of Edward's reign compelled the government 
to renounce, for a time, its ambitious dreams of conquest and 
annexation, and to strengthen itself in the affections of its 
English -born subjects, by thoroughly Anglicizing itself, and 
making England not merely the royal residence, but a chief 
object of its fostering care, as the real home of the throne, the 
domestic hearth of a united people. 

But still literary culture and even rudimentary education 
were attainable only through the medium of foreign tongues. 
English was not taught in the schools, but French only, until 
after the accession of Eichard II., or possibly the latter j^-ears of 
Edward III., and Latin was always studied through the French. 
Up to this period, then, as there were no standards of literary 
authority, and probably no written collections of established 
forms, or other grammatical essays, the language had no fixed- 
ness or uniformity, and hardly deserved to be called a written 
speech. 

There had been some writers, indeed — such, for example, as 
the author of the Ormulum — whose syntax and orthography were 
so uniform that a consistent accidence might be constructed for 
them ; but the grammatical system of no one would answer for 
any other, and the orthography varied so much, not only in 
different copies of the same author, but even in copies which 
are the work of one scribe, that we cannot doubt that there was 
extreme irregularity, both in the modes of spelling and in the 
articulation and the inflectional forms of the same words. 

I have hence found it impossible to give a detailed view of 
the inflectional or syntactical history of this period of English 
— an era of confusion and transition, when no recognized 
standard of accidence or of grammatical combination existed — 
and I have only illustrated, in a general way, the few leading 



Lect. IX. COEXISTENCE OF ENGLISH AND FEENCH 381 

characteristics of form which were common to all, or at least to 
most of those who attempted to compose in the vernacular 
dialect. 

' From this Babylonish confusion of speech, the influence and 
example of Chaucer did more to rescue his native tongue than 
any other single cause ; and if we compare his dialect with that 
of any writer of an earlier date, we shall find that in compass, 
flexibility, expressiveness, grace, and all the higher qualities of 
poetical diction, he gave it at once the utmost perfection which 
the materials at his hand w^ould admit of 

The English writers of the fourteenth century had an advan- 
tage which was altogether peculiar to their age and country. 
At all previous periods, the two languages had co-existed, in a 
great degree independently of each other, with little tendency 
to intermix ; but in the earlier part of that century, they began 
to coalesce, and this process was going on with a rapidity that 
threatened a predominance of the French, if not a total ex- 
tinction of the Saxon element. The political causes to which 
I have alluded arrested this tendency ; and when the national 
spirit was aroused, and impelled to the creation of a national 
literature, the poet or prose writer, in selecting his diction, had 
almost two whole vocabularies before him. That the syntax 
should be English, national feeling demanded ; but French was 
so familiar and habitual to all who were able to read, that pro- 
bably the scholarship of the day would scarcely have been able 
to determine, with respect to a large proportion of the words in 
common use, from which of the two great wells of speech they 
had proceeded. 

Happily, a great arbiter arose at the critical moment of 
severance of the two peoples and dialects, to preside over the 
division of the common property, and to determine what share 
of the contributions of France should be permanently annexed 
to the linguistic inheritance of Englishmen. 

Chaucer did not introduce into the English language words 
which it had rejected as aliens before, but out of those which 



382 DICTION OP CHAUCEIl Lect IX. 

had been already received, he invested the better portion \vith 
the rights of citizenship, and stamped them with the mint-mark 
of English coinage. In this way, he formed a vocabulary, 
which, with few exceptions, the taste and opinion of succeeding 
generations has approved ; and a literary diction was thus esta- 
blished, which, in all the qualities required for the poetic art, 
had at that time no superior in the languages of modern 
Europe. 

The soundness of Chaucer's judgment, the nicety of his philo- 
logical appreciation, and the delicacy of his sense of adaptation 
to the actual v/ants of the English people, are sufficiently proved 
by the fact that, of the Eomance words found in his writings, 
not much above one hundred have been suffered to become ob- 
solete, while a much larger number of Anglo-Saxon words em- 
ployed by him have passed altogether out of use.* 

It is an error to suppose that those writers who do most for 
the improvement of their own language, effect this by coining 
and importing new words, or by introducing new syntactical 
forms. The great improvers of language in all literatures have 
been eclectic. They do not invent new inflections, forge new 
terms, or establish new syntactical relations ; but from existing 
words, discordant accidences, conflicting modes of grammatical 
aggregation, they cull the vocabulary, the mode of conjugation 
and declension, and the general syntax, best calculated to 
harmonize the diversities of dialects, and to give a unity and 
consistence to the general speech. 

If the first great writer be a poet, his selection will, of course, 



^ In this number of obsolete words I include terms of general application only, 
and not the technicalities of alchemy, astrology, and the like, which have been 
forgotten with the arts to which they belonged, nor those words peculiar to the 
religious obserrances of the Eomish Church, which are not now understood or 
freely employed in England, because the English people is no longer familiar 
with the ritual of that religion. I should further remark that many Eomance as 
well as Saxon words used by Chaucer are now so changed in form and orthography 
that they are not readily identified with their originals by persons not familiar with 
etymological deduction. 



LeCT. IX. DICTION OF GREAT WBITEES 383 

be in some degree controlled by the material conditions of his 
art ; but as the poetic form embodies the highest expression of 
the hmnan intellect, his diction will be in general of an elevated 
character, and, for gssthetic reasons, the most melodious and 
graceful words will be chosen, while the necessities of metre 
will compel the adoption of a variety of inflectional forms, when- 
ever the accidence of the language admits of different modes 
of declension and conjugation. 

The real benefit which great authors in general confer on 
their native tongue, consists, first, in the selection and autho- 
rization of truly idiomatic, forcible, and expressive terms and 
phrases from the existing stock; and, secondly, in the embodying 
of universal, and of distinctively national, ideas and sentiments, 
in new and happy combinations of words themselves already 
individually familiar. Hence it will often happen that the first 
great writers in any language employ, not a strange or an 
extensive vocabulary, but, on the contrary, a common and 
a restricted one ; and the merit of their style will be found to 
depend, not upon the number of the words they use, but upon 
a peculiar force of expression derived from an accurate percep- 
tion of the laws by which words enlarge, limit, or modify the 
meaning of each other, and a consequent felicity in the mutual 
adaptation of the elements of discoui'se, and their arrangement 
in periods. 

In connection with this point, I may, without departing too 
far from our subject, notice a widely diffused error which it 
may be hoped the lexicographical criticism of the present day 
may dispel. I refer to the opinion that words, individually, and 
irrespectively of syntactical relations and of phraseological com- 
bination, have one or more inherent, fixed, and limited meanings 
which are capable of logical definition, and of expression in 
other descriptive terms of the same language. This may be 
true of artificial words — that is, words invented for, or conven- 
tionally appropriated to, the expression of arbitrary distinctions 
and technical notions in science or its practical applications — 



384 SIGNIFICANCE OF WORDS Lect. IX. 

and also of the names of material objects and of the sensuous 
qualities of things ; but of the vocabulary of the passions and 
the affections, which grows up and is informed with living 
meaning by the natural, involuntary processes to which all 
language but that of art owes its being, it is wholly untrue. 
Such words live and breathe only in mutual combination and 
interdependence with other words. They change their force with 
every new relation into which they enter ; and consequently 
their meanings are as various and as exhaustless as the permu- 
tations and combinations of the digits of the arithmetical 
notation. To teach, therefore, the meaning of a great propor- 
tion of the words which compose the vocabulary of every living 
speech, by formal definition, is as impossible as to convey by 
description a notion of the shifting hues of the pigeon's neck. 

This may be readily seen by the examination of any respect- 
able work on synonyms. The authors of these treatises, it is 
true, usually attempt discriminating description of the senses of 
the words they compare and distinguish ; but their definitions 
have almost always reference to the exemplifications they intro- 
duce of the actual use of the words discussed ; and it is from 
the context of the passages cited, not from the formal defini- 
tions, that the student learns the true analogies and true 
differences between words thus brought together. In short, 
without the exemplifications, the definitions would be unintel- 
ligible, while with them they are almost superfluous.* 

The power of selecting and combining words in such a way 
that each shall not only help, but compel, its fellow to give out 
the best meaning it is capable of expressing, is that which con- 
stitutes excellence in style, command of language, or, in other 
words, the art of best saying what we have to say. No such 
merit is possible in the early stages of any language. The 
words are too few, the recorded combinations not sufficiently 
multifarious, to have tested and brought out the various mean- 

* See Illustration I. at the end of this lecture. 



Lect. IX. YOCABULXRY OF FOUETEENTH CENTURY 385 

ings and applications of whicli words are susceptible; and 
culture is not yet far enough advanced for the existence and 
conscious recognition of a range and variety of ideas^ images, 
and sentiments, wide enough to have demanded any great 
multiplicity of expression. 

But in the period of English literature upon vv^hich we 
have now entered, these necessary conditions were approxi- 
mately satisfied. A sufficient variety of subjects had been dis- 
cussed to create a necessity for an extensive vocabulary, and 
to require a great range of syntactical and logical combination. 
The want of words had been supplied from Latin or Eomance 
sources, and flexibility of structure had been acquired by the 
translation and accommodation of foreign phraseological com- 
binations, by the resuscitation of obsolete Anglo-Saxon con- 
structions, and by hazarding new verbal alliances. Nothing was 
now wanting but the presence of a great genius to avail himself 
of these new-born facilities of utterance, or some special occasion 
which should prompt talent of a less original cast to employ them. 

In all great conjunctures, political or literary, the hour and 
the man come togetherr "When the harvest is prepared. Provi- 
dence sends forth the reapers to gather it. Langlande and other 
less important labourers, including, doubtless, many now for- 
gotten, had striven to cull, out of the chaos of Saxon, French, 
and Latin words which confusedly buzzed around them, a 
vocabulary suited to the expression of English ideas, images, 
sentiments; and they had somewhat blindly groped after the 
fittest association of these words in phraseological combinations. 

At this crisis there appeared one of the greatest masters of 
speech that have illustrated the literature of modern Europe — 
a genius gifted with the keenest sensibility to those latent 
affinities between particular words, upon which their most 
felicitous combinations depend, with the soundest j udgment in 
the appreciation of the pov/er of individiial terms, and with the 
most exquisite taste in the selection and arrangement of them. 

The stock of words, the raw material which had already been 

c c 



386 OBSOLETE SAXON WOEDS Lect. IX. 

accumulated for literary construction, was, as we have seen 
already, large — so large, in fact, that no great additions were 
required in order to furnish a complete supply for all the 
demands of the poetic art. But there were still some defi- 
ciencies in the vocabulary: first, a v/ant of words suited to the 
exigencies of the Eomance canons of verse, which not Chaucer 
alone, but the taste and judgment of the English people, had 
decided to adopt as the laws of poetical composition ; and« 
secondly, a great imperfection in the dialect of morals and of 
philosophy. 

After what I have observed, in a former lecture, upon the 
great expressiveness of Anglo-Saxon in matters of ethical and 
intellectual concern, and the richness of its vocabulary in the 
nomenclature of the passions and the affections, it may seem 
almost a contradiction to affirm that this is the very point in 
which early Saxon-English was most deficient. But the fact is 
so, and it was precisely this class of native words which had, in 
the largest proportion, become obsolete. The Anglo-Saxons 
had their own translations of the Gospels, the Psalms, and 
some other portions of Scripture. They had a theological and 
an ethical literature, and there is good reason to believe that, 
in spite of the influence of a Komanized priesthood, the native 
language was more habitually employed for ecclesiastical and 
religious purposes than any of the Eomance dialects ever had 
been. The obvious reason for this is found in the fact that 
Anglo-Saxon and Latin were not cognate languages, while the 
Eomance tongues were, if not descended from the Latin, at least 
nearly related dialects, and still retained a great resemblance to 
it. Hence, while a French or an Italian ecclesiastic could easily 
acquire a competent knowledge of the language with which his 
own vernacular was most nearly allied, and while some tradi- 
tional familiarity with its v/ritten forms was, and in fact still is, 
preserved among even the unlettered populace of Italy and 
France, the speech of Eome, the consecrated dialect of the 
Church, was wholly strange to the Anglo-Saxon people. The 



Lect. IX. ANGLO-SAXON MOEAL DIALECT 387 

native clergy could acquire it only by long yeLvs of painful 
labour, and even its technical phrases could only with great 
difficulty be made familiar to the mind and ear, or articulated 
by the tongue, of the Anglo-Saxon. There was, therefore, an 
absolute necessity for the employment of the native speech in 
religious and moral discussion ; and so long as England was 
independent of the Continent, there existed a full religious and 
ethical nomenclature. But early in the eleventh century, in 
consequence of matrimonial and political alliances with French 
princes, Norman influence began to make itself felt in England, 
and the Conquest, in the year 1066, gave the finishing stroke 
to Anglo-Saxon nationality, and introduced not only a new 
royal dynasty, but an army of foreign priests and teachers, who 
naturally insisted on employing the language of Eome in all 
matters pertaining to the discharge of their functions. Anglo- 
Saxon, consequently, went very soon, at least partiall}^, out of 
use as a medium of religious instruction, oral or written, and 
of moral discussion. When sermons and homilies were less 
frequently delivered in Anglo-Saxon, w^hen that language was 
no longer employed by^the learned in the treatment of themes 
connected with ethics, philosophy, and the social duties, it was 
very natural that the words belonging to those departments of 
thought should be forgotten, though the nomenclature of the 
various branches of material life still remained familiar and 
vernacular. We find, accordingly, that in the three centuries 
which elapsed between the Conquest and the noon-tide of 
Chaucer's life, a large proportion of the Anglo-Saxon dialect of 
religion, of moral and intellectual discourse, and of taste, had 
become utterly obsolete and unknown.* 

The place of the lost words had been partly supplied by the 
importation of Continental terms ; but the new words came 
without the organic power of composition and derivation which 
belonged to those they had supplanted. Consequently, they 

■"- See longer I^otes and Illustrations II. at tlie end of tMs lecture. See also 
Lecture III., Illustration IV. 

c c a 



388 DICTION OF CHAUCER Lect. IX. 

were incapable of those modifications of form and extensions of 
meaning which the Anglo-Saxon roots could so easily assume, 
and which fitted them for the expression of the new shades of 
thought and of sentiment born of every hour in a mind and an 
age like those of Chaucer. 

The poet, therefore, must sometimes have found himself in 
want of language suited to the largeness and brilliancy of the 
new conceptions, the hitherto unfelt sentiments and unrevealed 
images, the strange ' thick-coming fancies,' which were crowd- 
ing upon him and struggling for utterance. Where should he find 
words for the expression of this world of thought ? where metal 
to be stamped with this new coinage of the brain ? Should he 
resort to the sepulchre of the Saxon race, and seek to reanimate 
a nomenclature which had died with the last of the native kings ? 
Or should he turn to the living speech of a cultivated natiou, 
whose blood was already so largely infused into the. veins of the 
English people, and whose tongue was almost as familiar to 
them as the indigenous words of their own ? Had Chaucer, 
under such circumstances, attempted the revival of the forgotten 
moral phraseology of Saxondom — which could now be found 
only in the mouldering parchments of obscure conventual 
libraries, and was probably intelligible to scarcely a living 
Englishman — he would have failed to restore the departed 
nomenclature to its original significance, and would have only 
insured the swift oblivion of the writings which served as a 
medium for the experiment. On the contrary, by employing 
the few unfamiliar French words he needed, he fell in with the 
tendencies of his time, and availed himself of a vocabulary 
every word of which, if not at first sight intelligible to the 
English reader, found a ready interpreter in the person of 
every man of liberal culture. 

Langlande was the Pipin, Chaucer the Charlemagne, of the 
new intellectual dynasty of England. The one established the 
independence and the sovereignty of his house; the other, by 
a wise policy and by extended conquests, carried its dominion 



Lect. IX. FRENCH WORDS IN CHAUCEE 389 

to a pitcli of unprecedented prosperity and splendour. Chaucer 
was a prince whose fitness for the sceptre gave him a right to 
wield it, and the golden words he impressed with his own image, 
and scattered among his countrymen, were the medals of his 
coronation. 

Of the two causes which conspired to favour the introduction 
of French words into English verse — the poverty of the native 
vocabulary and the necessities of rhyme and metre — the 
Matter is much the most easily detected and traced; and we 
observe that a very large proportion of the French words 
employed by Chaucer and Grower are those which contain the 
rhyming syllables at the end of the lines.* 

I have before alluded to the necessary connection between 
the Eomance system of versification and a stock of words ac- 
cented according to the French orthoepy. This, in Chaucer's 
time, tended, as can easily be shown, in a more marked way 
than at present, to throw the stress of voice upon the final 
syllable f, contrary to the Saxon articulation, which, like that 
of the other Grothic languages, inclined to accent the initial 
syllable. In comparing Chaucer's versions -with the originals, 
as, for example, in the Eomaunt of the Eose, we not unfre- 
quentlyfind that he has transferred, not translated, the rhymes; 
but it will be seen that a very large share of the French words 
so emplo3^ed by him were such as, from their moral uses and 
significance, were insepara,bly connected with Christian doctrine 
and ethical teaching, and had therefore become already known, 
through the medium of ecclesiastical Latin, to even those of 
the English people who were not familiar "svith the courtly and 
cultivated French. 

Notwithstanding the necessity thus imposed upon Chaucer, 
as the translator of highly imaginative poems into a tongue 
hitherto without literary culture, and possessed of no special 

* See First Series, Lect. XXIV. p. 538, note. 
• t See First Series, Lect. XXIV. pp. 527, 528. 



390 FRENCH WORDS IN CHATJCER Lect. IX. 

vocabulary conventionally dedicated to poetical use, he was very 
sparing in the employment of French words not belonging to 
the class which I have just referred to ; and he shows exquisite 
taste and judgment in his selection from the vocabulary of both 
languages, whenever the constraint of metre and rhyme left 
him free to choose. Hence, though the Eomaunt of the Eose, 
and his other works of similar character, are admirably faithful 
as translations, their diction, which is an anthology of the best 
words and forms of both languages, is more truly poetical than 
that of the originals. In the hands of Chaucer, the English 
language advanced, at one bound, to that superiority over the 
French which it has ever since maintained, as a medium of the 
expression of poetical imagery and thought. 

The actual number of Eomance words introduced by Chaucer 
is very much less than has been usually supposed. His rare 
felicity of selection is not less apparent in his choice of native 
than of foreign terms. English he employed from principle 
and predilection, French from necessity, and his departures 
from the genuine idiom of the now common speech of England 
are few. 

The general truth of these observations will be made ap- 
parent by a few numerical facts. The translation of the first 
part of the Eoman de la Eose, or that which belongs to 
Gruillaume de Lorris, including the few original interpolations 
by Chaucer, contains something more than forty-four hundred 
lines, or twenty-two hundred pairs of rh3^mes. Of these pairs, 
between one hundred and twenty and one hundred and thirty, or 
rather less than six per cent., are transferred, with little change 
of form, from the French text, instead of being represented by 
equivalent words of Anglo-Saxon origin. The convenience of 
employing rhymes ready matched to his hands was, no doubt, 
one reason why the poet availed himself of them, or, to express 
the same thought in another way, why he introduced into 
his verses the two hundred and fifty French words of which 
these rhymes consist. 



Lect. IX. FIlENCn WORDS IN CIIAUCER 391 

The translation of the first part of the Roman de la Eose 
contains about thirty thousand words, and consequently the 
number of French words employed in the transferred rhymes 
is considerably less than one in a hundred of the whole number 
which make up the poem. Now, when we consider the com- 
parative poverty of native English, stripped, as we have seen 
it had been, of almost its whole Anglo-Saxon moral and in- 
tellectual nomenclatare, as well as of its inflectional rhyming- 
endings, when we remember that French was the only medium 
of literary culture, and was almost as well known as English to 
those for whom Cha^ucer wrote, it would seem^ that such a pro- 
portion of French v/ords — less than one per cent. — was not 
extravagantly large to employ in rhyming a translation of a 
French poem, even supposing that they were now used for the 
first time in an English book. But, in point of fact, they were 
by no means all now first introduced to the English public ; for 
if we compare these words with the vocabularies of earlier and 
contemporaneous English authors, we shall find that very many 
of them had been already long in use, and v/ere as well known 
to Englishmen as any words of Latin or French extraction. 
Sever?d of the remaining words are not employed by Chaucer 
himself in his other works, and they never appear again in 
English literature. He availed himself of the license of a 
translator for a special purpose, and when that purpose was 
answered, the new words thus used were dismissed from further 
service, and heard of no more. Hence the charge, that Chaucer's 
poems, and especially his translations, have corrupted his native 
speech by a large and unnecessary admixture of a foreign verbal 
element, is wholly without foundation.* 

* Of the two liundred and fifty French words which make up the pairs of 
rhymes transferred by Chaucer from his original, the following are wanting in 
Coleridge's Grlossarial Index to the Literature of the Thirteenth Centuiy : — Ada- 
mant, address (dress), adyantage, allegement and allegiance in the sense of alle- 
viation, amorous, amoret, anoint, apparent, attentive (ententive), avarice, brief, 
chevisance, coasting, colour, complain, conduit, confound, covine, curious, discom- 
fiture, disease, disperance, displease, divine, embattled, endure, ensign, fable, fined. 



392 MIXED CHARACTER OP ENGLISH LeCT. IX. 

The essential character of English, as a mixed and com- 
posite language, was indelibly stamped upon it before the time 
of Chaucer. As compared with Anglo-Saxon, it may pro- 
perly be styled a new speech, new in syntax, and renewed and 
enriched in vocabulary ; yet, in spite of the influx of foreign 
words in the course of the fourteenth century, it was no mere a 
new language than the English nation was a new people ; and 
it remained always a fit and appropriate medium for the ex- 
pression of English thought and English feeling, changing only 
as the new nationality advanced and grew to the fulness of its 
manhood. 

It is not easy to make an intelligible, specific comparison be- 
tween the dialect of Chaucer and that of earlier writers, because 
there is perhaps no one of them whose subjects agree so nearly 
with those treated by him, that their diction would be presumed 
to correspond as closely as the idioms of their respective periods 
would allow. The style of his prose works, whether translated 
or original — if, indeed, any of them are original — does not, 

llowret, fluter, foundation (fonndement), garment, glory, habit in sense of inhabit, 
hardiment, illuminated (enlnmined), jaundice, lace in the sense of net or snare, 
languor, lineage, losenger, meagre, mention, misericorde, moison, musard, muse, 
vctI), noblesse, ounce, weight, person, pleasant, prise in the sense of praise, present 
(in present), ragonce (should be jagonce, hyacinth'), reasonable, record, recroantise, 
refrain, religion, remember, remembrance, renoy/n, request, return, scutcheon, size, 
suckeny, table, towe], vain, victory, vermeil. Also the following, of which the 
stem is found in Coleridge : — AccordG??c^, acquaintaiZf, delitoi^s, despitoz^5, envio?£5, 
outrageo2(5, paintMr^', pleader, portraitzdrcs, repentance, savorec?, savoroz^s; and 
these, of which derivatives or allied forms occur in Coleridge : — Courage (coura- 
geous, Cole.), garden (gardener. Cole.), glutton (gloterie, Cole.), measure (measur- 
able. Cole.), moneste (amonestment, Cole.), tressour (tressed, tressure. Cole.). The 
very rapid increase of the French element in the English vocabulary, between the 
beginning and the middle of the fourteenth century, renders it highly probable 
that many of these ninety words had already been introduced by other "writers 
during that interval. Some of them, certainly, such as religion (which occurs in 
the Semi-Saxon of the Ancren Eiwle, though, strangely enough, not in the litera- 
ture of the thirteenth century), were naturalized a hundred and fifty years before 
Chaucer's career as an author began. When the character and value of these 
words are considered, I believe few scholars would convict Chaucer of the crime of 
corrupting his native tongue, even xipon proof that he was the first English 
writer who had ever ventured to use any of them. 



Lect. IX. Chaucer's woeks not historical 393 

so far as the stock of words is concerned, differ very essentially 
from that of the original writings ascribed to Wycliffe, which 
discuss similar subjects; but they are marked by more of artis- 
tic skill in composition, and by greater flexibility and grace of 
periodic structure. 

It is remarkable that Chaucer, eminently national as, in spite 
of the extent of his indebtedness to foreign sources, he certainly 
is, should yet never have thought of taking the subject of his 
inspiration from the recent or contemporaneous history of his 
own country. In the case of a poet who did not concern him- 
self with the realities of material life, but was devoted to didactic 
or speculative views, or even to depicting the higher workings 
of passion, this omission would not seem strange. But Chaucer 
lived among the flesh-and-blood humanity of his time, and 
deeply sympathized with it. He was a contemporary of the Black 
Prince, and, as a true Englishma,n, he could not but have been 
profoundly interested in the campaigns of that heroic soldier, 
and proud of the trophies of Creci and Poitiers. But the glories 
of English and French chivalry, which shed such a golden glow 
on the canvas of his contemporary, the chronicler Froissart, are 
nowhere reflected from the pages of Chaucer. On the contrary, 
he seems studiously to avoid allusion to the history and political 
concerns of his own country, even when they lie most obviously 
in his path. The character of the Knight, in the Prologue to 
the Canterbury Tales, afl'orded him an opportunity of enlivening 
his verse with some flush of national exultation, but in his enu- 
meration of the Knight's campaigns, he mentions none of the 
scenes where English valour had been pitted against the chivalry 
of France ; and yet he tells us of this warrior, that -— 

A.D. 1365. At Alisandi-e he was whan it was wonne. 
Ful ofle tyme he hackle the bord bygonne 
Aboven alle naciouns in Priice. 
In Lettowe hadde reyced and in Euce, 
No cristen man so ofte of his degre. 
In Gsrnade atte siege hadde he be 



394 CHAUCER AND FROISSART LecT. IX. 

A.D. 1344. Of Algesir, and riden in Belmarie. 

A.D. 1367. At Lieys was he, and at Satalie, 

A.D. 1352. Whan they were wonne ; and in the Greete see 

At many a noble arive hadde he be. 

At mortal batailles hadde he ben fiftene, 

And fonghten for our feith at Tramassene 

In lystes thries, and ay slayn his foo. 

This ilke worthi knight hadde ben also 

Somtyme with the lord of Palatye, 

Ageyn another hethene in Turkye, &c. , 

The events here referred to extend from about the date of 
the battle of Creci to that of the campaign of the Black Prince 
in Spain, but the Knight participates in no English battle ; and 
though, when the poet speaks of the martial prowess of the 
Squire, his son, he mentions that 

He hadde ben somtyme in chivachie, 

In Flaundres, in Artoys, and in Picardie, 

he does not take occasion for any expression of patriotic senti- 
ment, or even intimate that the young soldier had there been 
engaged in the national service, or in anything more than pri- 
vate raids or the petty warfares of feudal barons, in which the 
honour and interest of England had no stake. 

The silence of Chaucer on these subjects appears still more 
extraordinary, from the fact that he must have personally known 
the chronicler Froissart, who was long in the service of Philippa 
of Hainaut, the wife of Edward III., and "who, after an absence 
of seven-and-twenty years, returned to England in the reign of 
Eichard II., ^to iustifye the hystories and maters that he hadde 
written,' and to present to the king the ' fayre boke' I have men- 
tioned, ' well enlumyned, couered with veluet,' and ' garnysshed 
with elapses of syluer and gylte,' in which were engrossed ' all 
the matters of amours and moralytees, that in four and twentie 
yeres before he hadde made and compyled.'* 

* Proissart, cliap, cc, reprint of 1812, ii. p. G09. 



Lect. IX. Chaucer's OBLiaATiONS to feencii poets 395 

Froissart, as appears from his own statements, neglected no 
opportunity of making the acquaintance of persons intelligent in 
political and military affairs ; and his character of a ' maker of 
hystories ' was as well known both in France and in England as 
was that of Thucydides in Grreece, while he was composing his 
immortal history of the Peloponnesian war. His reputation as a 
poet, too, learned in criticism and the history of French litera- 
ture, would natural!}^ have attracted Chaucer to him. Chaucer's 
Complaint of the Black Knight, and Froissart's Dit du Cheva- 
lier Bleu, are the same poem, in an English and a French dress, 
and there are some remarkable resemblances of thought and 
expression between Chaucer's Book of the Duchess and Frois- 
sart's Paradise of Love. In these cases, though it may be 
impossible to say which was the original, the coincidence proves 
that the works, and in all probability the person, of the one 
author were known to the other. 

Under these circumstances, we should suppose that the his- 
torical zeal and ability of Froissart would have inspired the 
English poet ^vith the desire to celebrate the same events in a 
poetic form. But Froissart himself did not treat historical sub- 
jects in verse, and poetry seems to have been considered a fit 
vehicle only for themes of a more imaginative character than 
the hard realities of contemporaneous martial and political life. 

Chaucer borrowed much from French authors — more even 
than has been until recently supposed — and the influence of 
French literature is constantly seen in his works, even where 
they are not translations ; but there is every reason to suppose 
that those from whom his tales were directly taken had, in gene- 
ral, as little claim to originality as himself. Continued research 
is constantly carr3dng further back the invention of the fables 
which we habitually ascribe to the Middle Ages, and there are 
but few of them which can, with any confidence, be affirmed to 
belong to the period in which they are first known to us as 
existing in a written form. 

Few things in literature are more surpj-ising than the antiquity 



396 LITEKABY PKOPEKTT Leci. IX. 

and universality of popular fables. Many of these, considered 
as natural personifications or exemplifications of universal 
passions and moral qualities, may be supposed to have arisen 
independently of each other, as the forms in which, in rude ages, 
certain primary ideas and opinions spontaneously clothe them- 
selves. But there are others, so artificial in their conception 
and treatment, and so marked and peculiar in the selection and 
character of their personages, that it seems quite impossible that 
they could have possessed so close a similarity, if they had been 
original products of different ages and countries ; and yet they 
are found among peoples between whom no intercourse can have 
existed since the commencement of the historic period. Every 
reader of Grrimm and Firmenich will remember the diverting 
Low-German story of the race between the hedgehog and the 
hare, which indeed cannot, in its present form, be of great an- 
tiquity ; but it is affirmed to exist in some of the North- American 
Indian tribes, who certainly neither derived it from nor commu- 
nicated it to the whites. 

In Chaucer's time, whatever had been given to the world 
was regarded as common property. Most works of the Middle 
Ages were anonymous, and authors seldom made any scruple 
in employing inventions or poetical embellishments which 
suited their purpose, without acknowledgment, and evidently 
without consciousness of wrong. Our modern notions of the 
sacredness of literary property, of the perpetual title of an 
author to the coinage of his own brain, are, in part at least, the 
fruit of circumstances dependent on the mechanical conditions 
of the art of printing. So long as books were multiplied only 
by the slow and costly process of manual copying, the additional 
burden of a compensation to the author, in the shape of a copy- 
right, would have effectually prevented the circulation of most 
works ; and writers Avho toiled for present fame or future im- 
mortality would have defeated their own purpose by imposing- 
conditions upon the copying of their works, which would, in 
most cases, have prevented the multiplication of them altogether. 



Lect. IX. LITERARY PROPERTY 397 

But wlien, by the invention of printing, book-making became 
a manufacture, the relations between the producer and the con- 
sumer were changed. It is true, that when once the mechani- 
cal facilities were provided, an edition could be published at 
what had been the cost of a single copy ; but for this purpose, 
the arts of type-founding and type-setting must first be acquired 
by a long apprenticeship, and a large capital must be invested 
in types and presses. This capital and this industry could be 
secured from a dangerous competition, only by protective laws. 
The protection originally designed for the benefit of the capitalist, 
the printer, yielded returns, which, first the editors of classical 
works, and finally authors of original compositions, were allowed 
to share in about that small proportion which, in ordinary cases, 
the profits of the writer still bear to those of the publisher ; and 
hence the notion of a right in literary property. This has given 
birth to a new feature, if not a new estate, in modern society — 
a class of men who live by literary production, a body of pro- 
fessional writers, whose motive for authorship consists mainly in 
the pecuniary rewards it yields, rewards which can be secured 
to them only by the authority of laws recognizing the right of 
property in literary wares, and punishing the infraction of that 
right as in other cases of invasion of property. The authority 
of law, in all well-ordered governments, carries with it a moral 
sanction, and the code, which establishes the legal right of an 
author to the exclusive use and benefit of his intellectual labours, 
has created a respect for those rights, that extends even beyond 
the limits marked out by the law. 

That the legal title of the author is an important ingredient 
in the respect felt for his professional property is proved by the 
fact, that in cases which the law does not reach — as in regard 
to the works of ancient or foreign writers unprotected by an 
international copyright — the odium attached to plagiarism is 
less strongly felt ; and the commercial spirit of our age, in this 
as w^ell as in other things, is much less tender of the reputation 
than of the purse. 



398 INVENTION IN LITEEATURE Lect. IX. 

Van Lennep, the most eminent living writer of Holland, in 
some remarks at a congress of authors and publishers held at 
Brussels, not long since, to consider the general question of 
literary property, said : * For nearly forty years I have lived 
principally by robbery and theft;' and he justified his practice 
by the example of Virgil, Dante, Tasso, Milton, Moliere, Eacine, 
Voltaire, Schiller, Vondel, and Bilderdijk, all of whom he de- 
clared to be as unscrupulous plunderers as himself. 

^Mien, then, Chaucer and Gower appropriated and national- 
ized the tales versified by French poets, or by classic authors, they 
felt that they were only taking up waifs, or estrays, Avhich had 
been left by the original owners free to chance occupancy, and 
which the Norman or Eoman bard had himself probably come 
into possession of ^ by finding,' as the lawyers phrase it. It is 
an etymological remark worth making, now that we are upon 
the subject, that the very word invention, commonly used of 
the origination of a poem or a machine, radically means, not 
creation of that which is new, but accidentally coming upon, or 
finding, that which is old. 

And, in fact, how much is there either historically or psycho- 
logically new in what the dialect of criticism calls invention ? 
Shakespeare, the most original of writers, invented nothing, or 
next to nothing, in the way of plot or incident ; and if you strip 
his dramas of their artistic dress and moral element^ the events 
are just what do or may happen a hundred times within the 
observation of every man of experience in the world's affairs. 
For invention, in the way of creation of plot, for novel and 
startling situations and combinations, jou must go, not to 
Shakespeare, but to what are called ^sensation' novels. There 
you will find abundance of incident, that not only never did, 
but, without an inversion of the lavfs of humanity, never could 
happen ; while in all genial literature, the mere events of the 
story can at any time be matched in the first newspaper you take 
up. Just in proportion as the words or the woi'ks of the per- 
sonages of the dialogue or the narrative are new to human nature 



Lect. IX. INTENTION IN LITERATURE 399 

under the conditions supposed, just in proportion as they startle 
or surprise the reader or the spectator, they are false and vicious ; 
and the necessary and consciously felt truth of them, as logical 
results of the character and circumstances of the person depicted, 
is the test of the genius of the writer. 

The ingenious gentleman who manufactured a stupendous 
marine reptile out of the bones of whales was certainly a great 
inventor ; but the judicious do not rank him higher than the 
learned comparative anatomist who demonstrated that the 
hydrarchus was an imposture, or than the renowned naturalist 
whose free choice has authorized America to claim him as her 
own, by a better title than the accident of birth, and who is 
content to accept the works of Grod, even as they come from the 
hands of their Creator. 

So far as Chaucer was avowedly, or at least undisguisedly, a 
translator, there is of course no question of originality; but even 
in this capacity he shows great power of language, and the 
three or four hundred lines, which he has here and there inter- 
polated into his otherwise close translation of the work of De 
Lorris, will be at once recognized as among the passages of the 
poem finest in sentiment and most beautiful in imagery and 
expression.* 

* Chaucer's ability as a translator was known, and highly appreciated, by his 
literary contemporaries in France. "Wright, in his curious collection, the Anecdota 
Literaria, publishes the following complimentary stanzas addressed to Chaucer by 
Eustache Deschamps, a French poet of his own time : — 

BALLADE A GEOFFEOI CHAXJCEB, PAR EUSTACHE DESCHAMPS. 

[From the Bibliotheque Koyale, MS. 7219, fol. 62, ro.] 

Socrates, plains de philosopliie, 

Seneque en mcurs et angles en pratique, 

Ovides grans en ta poeterie, 

Bries en parler, saiges en rethorique, 

Aigles tres haultz, qui par ta theorique 

Enlumines le regno d'Eneas, 

L'isle aux geans, ceulx de Bruth, et qui as 

Seme les fleurs et plante le rosier 

Aux ignorans de la langue Pandras ; 

Grant translateur, noble GelFi-oy Chaucier. 



400 CHAUCER AND THE ITALIAN POETS Lect. IX. 

It has been tho-uglit strange that Chaucer, who borrowed so 
freely from French literature, should have taken so little from 
Italian sources. He is supposed to have been twice in Italy ; he 
professes to have learned the story of patient G-riselda, or the 
Gierke's Tale, from Petrarch, at Padua ; and he speaks of Dante 
with reverence, and paraphrases from the Inferno of that poet 
the inscription over the gates of the infernal regions. But his 
writings do not show much evidence of a familiarity with Italian 
literature, nor does he appear to be indebted to it for anything 
more than the story of Troilus and Creseide — which is a trans- 
lation, or rather a paraphrase, of the Filostrato of Boccaccio— 
and that of Palamon and Arcite, which is taken from the 



Tu es d'amours mondains dieiix, en Albie, 
Et de la rose, en la terre angelique, 
Qui d' Angels Saxonne est puis fleurie ; 
Angleterre d'elle ce noni s' applique, 
Le derrenier en I'etliimologique, 
En bon Angles le livre translatas : 
Et un vergier ou du plant demandas 
De ceuls qui font pour eulx auctorissr, 
N'a pas long temps que tu edifias, 
Grant translateur, noble Geffroy Cbauciei 

A toy pour ce, de la fontaine Helye 
Kequier avoir un ouvrage autentique, 
Dont la doys est du tout en ta baillie, 
Pour refrener d'elle ma soif ethique: 
Qu'en ma Gaule serai paralitique 
Jusques a ce que tu m'abuveras. 
Eustace sui, qui de mon plans aras ; 
Mais prens en gre les eurres d'escolier 
Que, par Clifford, de moy avoir pourras, 
Grant translateur, noble Gieffroi Chancier. 



L'Envoy. 

Poete liault, loenge destinye, 
En ton jardin ne seroie qu'ortie ; 
Considere ce que j'ay dit premier, 
Ton noble plan, ta douce melodic ; 
Mais pour scavoir, de rescrire te prie, 
Grant translateur, noble Geffroy Chaucier. 



Lect. IX. Chaucer's literary CHEONOLoaY 401 

Teseide of the same author. Chaucer's recension of this latter 
tale differs much in plan, arrangement, and incident from the 
Teseide, to which, as we shall see, it is greatly superior in 
imagery and sentiment, though, perhaps, not in the conduct 
of the narrative. 

Dante was too severe, Petrarch too sentimental, for the cheer- 
ful and buoyant spirit of Chaucer, and it is therefore not sur- 
prising that he should have copied or imitated the lively 
Boccaccio rather than the greater but more unreal creations 
of those authors. 

Chaucer, in fine, Vv^as a genuine product of the union of 
Saxon and Norman genius, and the first well-characterized 
specimen of the intellectual results of a combination, which 
has given to the world a literature so splendid, and a history so 
noble. 

The English is the only Gothic tribe ever thoroughly imbued 
with the Eomance culture, and at the same time interfused with 
southern blood, and consequently it is the only common repre- 
sentative of the two races. The civilization and letters of Grer- 
many and Scandinavia are either wholly dissimilar to those of 
Southern Europe, or they are close imitations. On the other hand, 
the social institutions and the poetry of the Eomance nations 
are self-developed, and but slightly modified by Grothic influ- 
ences. In England alone have the best social, moral, and intel- 
lectual energies of both families been brought to coincide in 
direction ; and in English character and English literature we 
find, if not all the special excellences which distinguish each 
constituent of the English nationality, yet a resultant of the two 
forces superior in power to either. 

We are not well acquainted with Chaucer's literary chronology, 
but there is good reason to believe that his translation of the 
Eoman de la Eose was his first important work, and the Canter- 
bury Tales his last, as it is unquestionably his greatest. 

The Eoman de la Eose is in two parts — the commencement, 
written by Guillaunie de Lorris about the year 1250, containing 

D D 



402 chaucek's accidence I.ect. IX. 

not far from forty-one hundred verses^ and the sequel or con- 
tinuation vfritten by Jean de Meung, half a century later, and 
extending to about nineteen thousand verses. Criticism upon 
the literary merits of works not belonging to English literature 
would here be out of place; and in our examination of Chaucer's 
Eomaunt of the Eose, we must confine ourselves chiefly to his 
ability as a translator, though some of his embellishments and 
improvements of the original will be found to deserve more 
special attention. 

The work of De Lorris is translated entire. The continuation 
by De Meung is much abridged, but I believe not otherwise 
essentially changed. The generally close correspondence be- 
tween the first part of the Eomaunt of the Eose and the best 
printed edition of the work of De Lorris — that of Meon — 
affords a gratifying proof that the existing manuscripts of both 
are, in the main, faithful transcripts of the respective authors' 
copies; for if either had been much altered, the coincidence 
between the two could not be so exact. We are, therefore, 
warranted in believing that we have the Eomaunt of the Eose 
very nearly as the translator left it, in all points except that of 
grammatical inflection. 

In this important particular there is much uncertainty and 
confusion, with respect not only to the dialect of the Eomaunt, 
but to that of all Chaucer's works. The manuscript copies of 
his writings in the different public and private libraries of Eng- 
land do not appear to have been collated by any competent 
scholar, and none of the printed editions, except, perhaps, 
Wright's Canterbury Tales, are entitled to much confidence as 
faithful reproductions of the codices. Caxton's second edition 
has been supposed to be of high authority, because it professedly 
conforms to a manuscript which he believed to be authentic ; 
but this was a point on which Caxton was by no means quali- 
fied to pronounce, and notwithstanding his professions of strict 
adherence to his text, his avowed practice of reducing what he 
calls the ' rude English ' of early authors, to an orthographical 



Leot. IX. PRINTED TEXTS OF CKATJCER 403 

and grammatical standard of his own, detracts mucli from the 
value of all his editions of works of preceding centm^ies. 

There are certain points of inflection in all the works of 
Chaucer, on which we are much in the dark. The most im- 
portpout of these, both syntactically, and in reference to versifi- 
cation, is the grammatical and prosodical value of the final e. 
Most generally, it seems to ha.ve stood as the sign of the plural, 
but sometimes, apparently, of case, and sometimes even of 
gender, in nouns, and of the definite form in the adjective. 
But the published texts are not uniform and harmonious enough 
in the use of this letter to enable us to form a consistent theory 
of its force, and to state the rules which governed its employ- 
ment. There appears to be little doubt, however, that it occurs 
more frequently in the manuscripts than in the printed editions 
It was often obscurely written, or indicated by a mere mark, 
which later transcribers and printers have overlooked, and the 
restoration of it is, in many cases, absolutely necessary to the 
metre of lines which are found in the midst of passages generally 
of exquisite versification.* 

The printed copies are very inaccurate also in discriminating 
between the regularly and the irregularly conjugated verbs. In 
modern times, not only have many verbs originally irregular 
become regular in conjugation, but the two systems are some- 
times blended. Thus the Anglo-Saxon, ere op an, to creep, 
made the past tense singular, creap. But we say, crept, and 
the like, the t final standing for ecZ, the usual ending of the 
regular conjugation, which some grammatical improver sup- 
posed to be a necessary sign of the past inflection. The best 
manuscripts of Chaucer do not justify this corruption, though it 
appears in all the old editions. 



*'•' My learned friend, Professor Child, of Harvard TJniTersity, has kindly com- 
municated to me many interesting observations on the e final in Chancer, but, as 
he is still continuing his researches, I will not anticipate his conclnsions, which 
trust will soon be given to the world by himself. See Wright's Notes on the 
Reeve's Tale, Anfjcdota Literaria, p. 23 et seq. 

D D 2 



404 THE EOMAUNT OF THE KOSB Lect. IX. 

The translation of the Eoman de la Rose, in the form we 
possess it, is not, then, a safe authority upon the accidence of 
English at the commencement of Chaucer's literary career; 
but, from its general fidelity to the original, it affords a fair 
opportunity for comparing the relative power of poetical ex- 
pression, possessed, at that time, by the two languages. English 
had not then attained to the full compass, flexibility, and grace, 
with which Chaucer himself, in his later works, endowed it. 
Still, I believe that no competent judge can examine the French 
text and its English counterpart, without coming to the con- 
clusion, that the language, which, a generation or two before, 
had shown itself, in the hands of Robert of Grioucester and his 
follower De Brunne, poor, rude, and unpolished, had now, by 
accretion and development, become so improved as to be in no 
wise inferior to the original of the Roman de la Rose, in any of 
the special qualities that go to make up a perfect poetical 
diction. 

The metre is the same in the translation as in the original — 
iambic, octosyllabic rhjmie — but as the e final was, except 
when followed by a word beginning with li^ or with a vowel, 
generally pronounced in both languages, a majority of the 
lines have a superfluous or ninth syllable in the terminal 
rhyme, which thus becomes an amphibrach instead of an iambus. 
In this respect, however, no rule of sequence or arrangement is 
followed, the alternate succession of masculine and feminine, 
or single and double rhymes, not having then become obligatory 
in French, as it never did in English verse. 

So far as, with our imperfect knowledge of the pronunciation 
of English in Chaucer's time, we are able to judge, the versi- 
fication of this translation, though in general flowing and cor- 
rect, is Iqss skilful than that of the poet's later works ; and he 
exhibits less facility in rhyming in the Romaunt than in his 
Canterbury Tales. Thus, where a double -rhymed ending occurs, 
he, much more frequently than in his original compositions. 



Lect. IX. THE KOMAUNT OF THE KOSE 405 

makes use of two words in one line as a consonance to a single 
word in another. Thus : 

1374. And many homely trees there were, 
That peaches, coines, and apples here, 
Medlers, plummes, peeres, chesteims 
Cherise, of whiche many ohq fame is. 



So ao'ain 



and 



1382. With cipres, and with oliveris, 

Of which that nigh no plenty here is. 



1577. Againe the Sunne an hundred Jiewis, 

Blew, yellow, and red, that fresh and new is. 



But these licenses are not common, and in general both rhyme 
and metre are unexceptionable. 

To give an extended comparison between the diction of the 
French poet and his English translator is here impossible, and 
I must content myself with a specimen or two, which will serve 
to direct the attention of the reader to the mode in which 
Chaucer has embellished and improved upon his original. This 
he effects by the use of more expressive words, by the addition 
of picturesque features to the imagery, and by the greater con- 
densation of style which the structure of English sometimes 
allows. 

Verses 119 — 122 of the original run thus: — 

Si vi tot covert et pave 
Le fons de I'iave de gravele; 
La praerie grant et bele 
Tres au pie de I'iave batoit. 

This Chaucer renders, in four and a half verses, thus : — 

Tho' saw I wele 
The bottome y-paved everidele 
"With gravel, full of stones shene; 
The meadowes softe, sote and grene, 
Beet right upon the water side. 



406 THE EOMAUNT OF THE EOSE Leot. IX. 

An explanatory remark is sometimes introduced by the 
translator, as in the comparison of the song of the birds in the 
rose-garden to the chant of the sirens. De Lorris has said, 

672. Tant estoit cil clians dous et biaus, 

Qu'il ne sembloit pas clians d'oisiaus, 

Ains le peust Ten aesmer 

A chant de seraines de mer, 

Qui, par lor vois qu'eles ont saines 

Et series,* ont non seraines. 

In the translation thus : 

Such swete song was hem emong, 
That me thought it no birdes song, 
But it was w^onder like to bee 
Song of meremaidens of the see, 
That, for hir singen is so clere, 
Though we meremaidens clepe hem here 
In English, as is our usaunce, 
Men clepe hem sereins in France. 

But Chaucer's amplifications of the text of De Lorris are not 
numerous, nor, with a siogle exception, of much importance. 
The addition, in the case I refer to, was noticed in Lecture XL 
of my First Series, and I here recur to it, not only for its in- 
herent interest, as the expression of a generous and truly English 
sentiment, of which there is no trace in the origiaal, but, more 
especially, because, in a later work, the poet repeats, expands, 
and enforces the sentiment, in a tone which plainly indicates that 
he had been censured for expressing it, and was seizing an occasion 
for a spirited defence of his principles. The connection between 
the two passages renders it necessary to re-examine the first. 

The word vilain denoted primarily a man of rustic and 
plebeian birth, and afterwards, from the general disposition of 
the high-born and the rich to ascribe base qualities to men of 
humble origin, it came to signify, also, ignoble in spirit, mean 

"^ Eoquefort esplams this word: Joli, agrcable, doux, melodieux, paisible, 
moucre, tranquille, lent, grave, — ratlier a formidable list of meanings to be 
deduced from the Latin adverb, sero, late, to v/hich he refers serie. 



Lect. IX. THE EOMAUNT OF THE ROSE 407 

and vulgar. At a later period, the word acquired in English 
even a more offensive moral meaning ; but in Chaucer's time, 
though employed occasionally by the poet himself in the same 
metaphorical way as in French, it v/as not habitually used in 
any other than the feudal sense of a tenant, or a serf bound to 
the soil he tilled, or in the more general acceptation of a plebeian, 
low-born person.* De Lorris had introduced this word and its 
derivative, vilonnie, into a passage, v. 2086, which Chaucer 
translates thus : — 

2175. ' Villanie at the beginning, 

* I woll,' sayd Love, ' over all thing 
Thon leave, if thou wolt ne be 
False, and trespace ayenst nie : 
I curse and blame generally 
All hem that loven villany, 
For villanie maketh villeine, 
And by his deeds a choiie is seine. 
These villaines arne without pitie, 
Friendship, love, and all bountie. 
I nill receive unto my servise 
Hem that ben villames of emprise.' 

Villanie (vilonnie) as first used in this extract is employed in 
a moral sense, but in the couplet : 

For villanie maketh villeine, 
And by his deeds a chorle is seine, 

mlleine, as plainly appears by the original, 

Vilonnie fait li vilains, 

^ This latter -was tlie common meaning long after Chaucer's time, and even as 
late as the beginning of the sixteenth centiuy. Fisher thns uses it, in his memo- 
rial sermon on the Countess of Eichmond and Derby, mother of Hemy VII., 
preached in 1509. Speaking of the prayer of Christ for the forgiveness of his 
enemies, and his expected intercession for the departed countess, he says : — ' Yf 
in this mortall Body he prayed and asked forgjnreness for his Enemyeg that cruci- 
iyed hym •"' ^^ •"' and yet nevertheless he opteyned his petycion for them ; moche 
rather it is to suppose, that he shall opteyne his askynge for ■'«' * "^ this noble princes 
than for his mortal Enemyes, which were many and but vylayncs^ Bosvile's 
reprint, 1708, p. 24 : Here the word means persons of lov/ condition, as con- 
trasted with the rank of the deceased ' noble princess.' 



408 THE EOMAUNT OF THE EOSE Lect. TX. 

is the nominative to onaketh, and villanie is its objective. 
Hence tlie meaning is : villains, or persons of plebeian rank, 
commit villany or base actions, or, in other words, those who 
are villains in a legal sense are especially prone to be guilty of 
the meannesses which were morally stigmatized as villany. 
Against this opinion, Chaucer's noble spirit, though he was of 
gentle birth, compelled him to protest, and he introduced into 
his translation this disclaimer : 

But understond in thine entent, 

That this is not mine entendement, 

To clepe no wight in no ages 

Onely gentle for his linages : 

But whoso is vertuous, 

And in his port not outrageous, 

When such one thou seest thee beforne, 

Though he be not gentle borne, 

Than maiest well seine this in sooth, 

That he is gentle, because he doth 

As longeth to a gentleman : 

Of hem none other deme I can, 

For certainly withouten dreede 

A chorle is demed by his deede, 

Of hye or lowe, as ye may see, 

Or of what kinred that he bee.* 

Although the original harshness of the feudal relation "be- 
tween the Norman lord and the Saxon churl had been some- 
what softened by three centuries of common interest and reci- 
procal dependence and helpfulness, yet such sentiments as these 
were of too dangerous a tendency to be well received by the 
higher classes, in an age when so many popular apostles of 
liberty, in France and in England, were preaching the natural 
equality of man. Hence Chaucer was undoubtedly blamed for 
unnecessarily proclaiming this disorganising doctrine, in the 
translation of a work which professed no such social heresy. 

But the poet did not shrink from the position he had taken, 

* See Longer Notes and Illustrations, III. at the end of this lecture. 



Lect. IX. THE EOMAUNT OF THE ROSE 409 

and in the Wife of Bath's Tale he again advanced and main- 
tained the opinion, that the true test of gentility is nobleness 
of life and courtesy of manner, and not ancestral rank. This 
position is enforced at much length, the argument extending to 
a himdred verses, and being conducted with a spirit which gives 
it altogether the air of a reply to a personal attack. It is as 
follows: — 

But for ye speken of swiclie gentilesse, 
As is descendit out of old richesse, 
Therefor schuld ye ben h olden gentil men ; 
Swiche arrogaunce is not Avortli an hen. 
Lok who that is most vertuous alway, 
Prive and pert, and most entendith ay 
To do the gentil dedes that he can, 
Tak him for the grettest gentil man. 
Crist, wol we clayme of him our gentilesse, 
Nought of oure eldres for her olde richesse. 
For though thay give us al her heritage. 
For which we clayme to be of high parage, 
Yit may thay not biquethe, for no thing, 
To noon of us, so vertuous lyvyng, 
That made hem gentil men y-callid be, 
And bad us folwe hem in such degre. 
Wei can the wyse poet of Florence, 
That hatte Daunt, speke of this sentence ; 
Lo, in such maner of rym is Dauntes tale : * 

* I have not been able to identify the precise passage in Dante referred to "by 
Chaucer, but the Italian poet expresses very similar sentiments in the Canzone 
prefixed to the fourth Trattato in the Convito : — 

E poiche tempo mi par d' aspettare, 

Diporro giu lo mio soave stile, 

Ch' io ho tenuto nel trattar d' Amore, 

E diro del valore 

Per lo qual veramente e 1' uom gentile, 

Con rima aspra e sottile, 

Eiprovando il giudicio falso e vile 

Di que', che voglion ehe di gentilezza 

Sia principio ricchezza : 

Ed k tanto durata 



410 THE EOMAIJNT OP THE EOSB LeCT. IX 

Ful seeld uprisitli by his braunchis small 

Prowes of man, for God of his prowesse 

Wol that we claime of him our gentilesse : 

For of our auncestres Ave no thing clayme 

But temporal thing, that men may hurt and may me. 

Ek every wight wot this as well as I, 

If gentiles were plaunted naturelly 

Unto a certayn lignage doun the line, 

Prive ne apert, thay wolde never fine 

To done of gentilesce the fair office, 

They might nought doon no vileny or vice. 

The poet manifestly holds that gentility is not a generic dis- 
tinction, and at the same time tacitly gives in his adhesion to 
the doctrine of the perpetuity of species, j ast now under dis- 
cussion, in a class of philosophers who were not dreamed of by 
Chaucer as likely to debate that question five centuries after his 
age. He proceeds : — 



La cosi falsa opinion tra nui, 
Che r uom chiama colui 
Uomo gentil, che puo dicere : I'fui 
Nipote o figlio di cotal valente, 
Benche sia da niente : 
***** 

Chfe le divizie, siccome si crede, 
Non posson gentilezza dar, ne torre ; 
Perocche vih son di lor natura. 
***** 

E gentilezza dovunque virtute, 
Ma non virtute oV ella ; 
Siccome e cielo dovunque la Stella; 
Ma cio non h converso. 
***** 

Pero nessun si vanti, 

Dicendo : per ischiatta io son con lei, • 

Ch'elli son quasi Dei 

Que' c' ban tal grazia fuor di tutti rei; 

Che solo Iddio all' anima la dona, 

Che yede in sua persona 

Perfettamente star, sicch^ ad alquanti 

Lo seme di felicita s' accosta, 

Messo da Dio nell' anima be» posta. 



Lect. IX. TRANSLATION 411 

Tak fuyr and ber it in the derkest kous, 
Bitwixe this and the mount Caukasous, 
And let men shit the dores, and go thenne, 
Yit -wol the fuyr as fliir and lighte brenne 
As twenty tlioiisand men might it beholde; 
His office naturel ay wol it holde, 
Up peril on my lif, til that it dye. 
Her may ye se wel, how that genterye 
Is nought annexid to possessioun, 
Sithins folk ne doon her operacionn 
Alway, as doth the fuyr, lo, in his kynde. 
Por God it wot, men may ful often fynde 
A lordes sone do schame and vilonye. 
And he that wol have pris of his gentrie, 
For he was boren of a gentil hoiis, 
And had his eldres noble and vertuons, 
And nyl himselve doo no gentil dedes, 
Ne folw his gentil aunceter, that deed is, 
He is nought gentil, be he duk or erl ; 
For vileyn synful deedes maketh a cherl. 
For gentilnesse nys but renome 
Of thin auncestres, for her heigh bounte, 
Which is a straunge thing to thy persone ; 
Thy gentilesce cometh fro God alloone. 
Than comth om-e verray gentilesse of grace, 
It was no thing biquethe us with oure place. 
Thinketh how nobil, as saith Valerius, 
Was thilke Tullius Hostilius, 
That out of povert ros to high noblesse. 
Eedith Senek, and redith eek Boece, 
Ther schuln ye se expresse, that no dred is, 
That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis. 
And therfor, lieve housbond, I conclude, 
Al were it that myn auncetres wer rude, 
Yit may the highe God, and so hope I, 
Graunte me grace to lyve vertuously ; 
Than am I gentil, whan that I bygynne 
To lyve vertuously, and weyven synne. 

The dialect of the translation of the Eoman de la Eose 
is, in general, more archaic than that of Chaucer's later, and 



412 TRANSLATION Lect. IX, 

especially his original works, and these latter, which reach the 
highest excellence of expression in the Canterbury Tales, exhibit 
a force and beauty of diction that few succeeding authors have 
surpassed. 

Chaucer's translation of the Eomaunt of the Eose, which 
was a work of his earlier years, was perhaps consciously de- 
signed as a preparation for original poetic effort. But whether 
so designed or not, he could hardly have selected a better exer- 
citation or school of practice, in the use of his mother tongue 
as a medium of imaginative composition. 

The French Eoman de la Eose — or rather the first part of 
the two poems which pass under that name, but which are by 
different authors, and but slightly connected as commencement 
and sequel — was in a style wholly new to English, and its dialect 
was richest in many points, both of thought and of expression, 
where the poverty of English was greatest. A translation of it, 
therefore, was a work admirably suited, in the hands of a genial 
artist, to the improvement of the practical diction of English, 
in the points where it needed to be reformed before it could 
become a fit vehicle for the conceptions of a truly original 
poetic spirit. 

Indeed it may be said, as a general truth, that one of the 
very best methods of learning to express ourselves aptly in our 
native language is to habituate ourselves to the utterance of 
thoughts and the portrayal of images conceived by other minds, 
and embodied in other tongues, and there is perhaps no practice, 
by which we can so readily acquire the command of an extensive 
vocabulary, or give to our personal dialect so great a compass, 
flexibility and variety of expression, as by the translation of 
authors whose thoughts run in channels not familiar to our 
native literature. 

Nor is it that, in translation, we borrow either the words, or 
even the phraseological combinations of those from whom we 
translate. This would be but a restamping of old coin without 
effacing the foreign image and superscription, a slavish imita- 



Iect. IX. Chaucer's minor poems 413 

tion of the original, which a man capable, or ambitious of be- 
coming capable, of well using his own tongue, could not descend 
to. But it is, that when we think another man's thoughts in 
our own words, we are forced out of the familiar beats of our 
own personal diction, and compelled sometimes to employ 
vocables and verbal combinations, which, though they may be 
perfectly idiomatic, we have not before appropriated and made 
our own by habitual use, sometimes to negotiate new alliances 
between vernacular words, which, if they never have yet been 
joined together, nevertheless lawfully and profitably may be.* 

It is impossible here to go into a critical examination of the 
numerous works of Chaucer, original and imitative, and the 
space at our command will only enable us to take a cursory 
view of some of the more important of his remaining poems. 
Of the former class, one of the best known is the Troilus and 
Creseide, which is founded on the Filostrato of Boccaccio, and 
in part directly translated from that author. The additions to 
the Italian are extensive, important, and probably mainly 
original, though certainly, in part, derived from French writers. 
Chaucer himself makes no mention of Boccaccio, but professes 
to derive the incidents of the story from Lollius, a Latin author; 
but no Latin original is known, nor have the longer additions 
been traced to any other source. It cannot be said that the 
poem is essentially improved by the changes of the translator, 
though, in some passages, great skill in the use of w^ords is 
exhibited, and the native humour of Chaucer pervades many 
portions of the story, which, in the hands of Boccaccio, were 
of a graver cast ; but, upon the whole, the merit of Chaucer's 

* Maister Cheekes iudgement was great in translating out of one tongue into an 
other, and better skill he had in our English speach to iudge of the Phrases and 
properties of wordes, and to diuide sentences, than any else had that I haue 
knowne. And often he -woulde englyshe his matters out of the Latine or Greeke 
A'pon the sodeyne, by looking of the booke onely without reading or construing at 
all: An vsage right worthie and verie profitable for all men, as well for the vnder- 
standing of the booke, as also for the aptnesse of framing the Authors meaning 
and bettering thereby their iudgement, and therewithal! perfiting their tongue and 
vtterance of speach. — Epistle to Wilson's Translation of Demosthenes. London : 1570. 



414 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF Lect. IX, 

contributioDs to the original tale is not such as, in a brief and 
general view of his poetical and philological character, to re- 
pay an analysis. . 

The exquisite poem, the Flower and the Leaf, is, I am afrpid, 
better known by Dryden's modernization of it than by the origi- 
nal text. It first appeared in 1597, and its authenticity has been 
suspected, but the internal evidence is almost decisive in its 
favour. Chaucer himself, in the Legend of Grood Women, ex- 
pressly alludes to the subject, as one on which he had written, and 
there can be little doubt that the poem in question is his. Parts 
of it have been shown to be imitations or translations from the 
French, but these constitute an inconsiderable proportion of the 
work, and it must be regarded as among the most truly original, 
as it certainly is one of the finest, of Chaucer productions. Indeed 
it may be said, with respect to many of the poet's alleged obli- 
gations to Eomance authors, the evidence of which has been 
industriously collected by Sandras and others, that the passages 
cited in proof of the theory that our author was little better than 
a translator, are, for the most part, mere commonplaces, which 
are found in all literatures, and the true origin of which dates 
so far back that no Eomance author, ancient or modern, can 
fairly be supposed to have first expressed them. 

The general plan of the Flower and the Leaf is well enough, 
though somewhat quaintly, stated by the first editor : 

A gentlewoman, ont of an arbour in a grove, seetli a great companie 
of knights and ladies in a dannce upon the greene grasse : the which 
being ended, they all kneele doAvne, and do honour to the daisie, some 
to the flower, and some to the leafe. Afterward this gentlewoman 
learneth by one of these ladies the meaning hereof, which is this : 
They which honour the flower, a thing fading with every blast, are 
such as looke after beaiitie and worldly pleasure. But they that 
honour the leafe, which abideth with the root, notwithstanding the 
frosts and winter stornies, are they which follow vertue and during 
qualities, without regard of worldly respects. 

One of the most striking characteristics of this poem is the 



Lect. IX. Chaucer's sympathy with nature 415 

sympathy it manifests with natm^e. Some tokens of this feeling 
are discoverable in Piers Ploughman, but it is first fully displayed 
by Chaucer. The same sensibility to the charms of rural scenery 
and landscape beauty is indeed shown elsewhere by our author, 
but perhaps nowhere in so high a degree. This feature of the 
poem renders it probable that it is one of Chaucer's later works ; 
for the perception of landscape beauty depends upon a long 
training of the eye, which is hardly perfected until a somewhat 
advanced period of life. In the hey-day of youth, we do not 
see Grod in his works, and the increased enjoyment of rural 
scenery is one of the compensations reserved by Providence for 
the sober age of those who have so familiarized themselves with 
the ways of Nature as to understand some of the many voices in 
which she speaks to her children.* 

But the love of nature, as exhibited in this poem, is rather a 
matter of feeling than of intelligent appreciation or of refined 
taste ; for the description of the grove a.pplies to the clipped and 

* I venture here to quote a passage from a discourse of my own, delivered and 
puHislied in 1847 :— 

* The age of the wise man has another compensation. It has been wisely ordered, 
that the sense of material heauty in the myriad forms of spontaneous nature and 
formative art, is the last developed of all the powers of sensuous perception. It 
cannot arrive at its full perfection until the abatement of the "natural force" 
allows to the pure intelligence its due superiority over the physical energies, and 
the sense to which the impressions of visible beauty are addressed has been refined 
and spiritualized by long, and perhaps unconscious, sesthetical cultivation. "We say 
unconscious cultivation, for in this school of life our great teacher often disguises 
her lessons. Of all our organs, the eye is the most susceptible of culture, and it 
is the one for w^hose involuntary training Nature has made the largest provision. 
Untaught, newborn vision distinguishes but outline and colour, and it is long obser- 
vation, alone, that gives the perception of the relief which springs from the dis- 
tribution of light and shade, the notions of distance and relative position, and the 
estimate of comparative magnitudes. Thus far, unreflecting experience carries 
her pupil. But the ethereal perception of beauty is a product of the period when 
strengthening intellect has acquired its full dominion over mortified passion, the 
superadded fruit of moral culture, and it attains not its ripeness, save under the 
rays of an autumnal sun. Nature has thus reserved for the sober eye of age the 
most intelligent appreciation, and the most exquisite enjoyment, of the choicest of 
her sensuous gifts, and the evening of the scholar who has made his life a dis- 
cipline is cheered by the most ennobling contemplations of the world of intellect, 
and gilded with the most exalted pleasures of the world of sense.' 



416 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF Lect. IX. 

trimmed artificial plantation, and not to the wild and free luxu- 
riance of forest growth. Chancer here unfortunately followed 
his literary reminiscences, instead of trusting to his own instincts 
and his taste ; for he is borrowing from a French poet when he 
speaks of the ' okes great/ which grew ' streight as a line,' and 
at equal distances from each other,* and of the ' hegge/— 

Wrethen in fere so well and cunningly, 

That every branch and leafe grew by mesure, 

Plaine as a bord, of an height by and by. 

But this description of the turf must have been original, for 
it is in Encfland that one oftenest finds : 



'O' 



The grene gras 
So small, so thicke, so short, so fresh of hew, 
That most like imto green wool wot I it was. 

I believe no old manuscript of the Flower and the Leaf is 
known to be extant. This is much to be regretted, because 
Speght's edition is evidently exceedingly corrupt, and the versi- 
fication, Avhich seems to have been very polished and mellifluous, 
is much impaired by the inaccuracy of the text. 

•'«" Dans le Dit du Lyon (de G-. Machaiilt), les arbres de I'ile ou aborde le poete, 
sont tons de meme hauteur, et plantes a egale distance ; genre de paysage deja 
decrit par Gr. de Lorris et qui cliarmait les anciens Bretons. 

Li vergiers etoit compassez, 
Car d' arbres y aroit assez, 
Mais de groissour et de hautesse 
Furent pareil, et par noblesse 
Plante si, que nulz ne sayoit 
Com plus de I'un a I'autre aroit. 

Sandras, Etude sur Chaucer^ p. 100. 

In the translation of Owen, or the Lady of the Fountain, by Villemarque, is 
this passage: "Apres avoir erre longtemps, j'arriyai dans la plus belle yallee du 
nionde; la s'eleyaient des arbres, tous de meme hauteur;" and in a note, two 
similar passages from the Myvyrian and the Mabinogion are cited.— Villemarque, 
Les Komans de la Table Eonde, pp. 181, 228. This seems to indicate a taste 
generated, or rather deprayed, by a too artificial ciyilization, such as we can hardly 
suppose to haye existed in any early Celtic nation. 



Lect. IX. CANTERBURY TALES 417 

Chaucer's greatest work, that on which his claim to be ranked 
. among the first ornaments of modern literature must principally 
rest, is his Canterbury Tales. This is a collection of stories re- 
lated by the members of a company of pilgrims as they rode 
together to worship and pay their vows at the shrine of *' the 
holy blisful martir,' St. Thomas a Becket. 

The host of an inn, the Tabard, at Southwark — where the 
pilgrims, twenty-nine in number, accidentally meet on their 
way to Canterbury, and pass the night — joins their company, 
and acts as the presiding spirit of the party. It is agreed that 
each pilgrim shall tell at least one tale — for there is some con- 
fusion about the number — on the journey to Canterbury, and 
another on the return ; but the whole number of stories is 
twenty-four onty, Chaucer having died before the work was 
completed. After a brief introduction, filled with the most 
cheerful images of spring, the season of the pilgrimage, the poet 
commences the narrative with a description of the person and 
the character of each member of the party. This description 
extends to about seven hundred lines, and, of course, affords 
space for a very spirited and graphic portrayal of the physical 
aspect, and an outline of the moral features, of each. This 
latter part of the description is generally more rapidly 
sketched, because it was a part of the author's plan to allow his 
personages to bring out their special traits of character, and 
thus to depict and individualize themselves, in the inter- 
ludes between the tales. The selection of the pilgrims is evi- 
dently made with reference to this object of developement in 
action, and therefore constitutes an essential feature of the 
plot. We have persons of all the ranks not too far removed 
from each other by artificial distinctions, to be supposed 
capable of associating upon that footing of temporary equality, 
which is the law of good fellowship, among travellers bound on 
the same journey and accidentally brought together. All the 
great classes of English humanity are thus represented, and 
opportunity is given for the display of the harmonies and the 



418 CANTEEBURY TALES Lect. IX. 

jealousies which now -united^ now divided the interests of dif- 
ferent orders and different vocations in the commonwealth. 
The clerical pilgrims, it will be observed, are proportionately 
very numerous. The exposure of the corruptions of the church 
was doubtless a leading aim with the poet, and if the whole 
series, which was designed to extend to at least fifty-eight tales, 
had been completed, the criminations and recriminations of the 
jealous ecclesiastics would have exhibited the whole profession 
in an unenviable light. But Chaucer could be just as well as 
severe. His portrait of the prioress, though it does not spare 
the affectations of the lady, is complimentary ; and his ' good 
man of religion,' the * pore Persoun of a toun,' of whom it is 
said that — 

Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve, 

He taught, and ferst he folwed it himselve, 

has been hundreds of times quoted as one of the most beautiful 
pictures of charity, humility, and generous, conscientious, intel- 
ligent devotion to the duties of the clerical calling, which can 
be found in the whole range of English literature. 

None of these sketches, I believe, has ever been traced to a 
foreign source, and they are so thoroughly national, that it is 
hardly possible to suppose that any imagination but that of an 
Englishman could have conceived them. In the first introduc- 
tion of the individuals described in the prologues to the several 
stories, and in the dialogues which occur at the pauses between 
the tales, wherever, in short, the narrators appear in their own 
persons, the characters are as well marked and discriminated, 
and as harmonious and consistent in action, as in the best 
comedies of modern times. Although, therefore, there is, in 
the plan of the composition, nothing of technical dramatic form 
or incident, yet the admirable conception of character, the con- 
summate skill with which each is sustained and developed, and 
the nature, life, and spirit of the dialogue, abundantly prove, 
that if the drama had been known in Chaucer's time as a 



Lect. IX. CANTEEBURY TALES 419 

brancti of living literature, lie might have attained to as high 
excellence in comedy as any English or Continental writer. 

The story of a comedy is but a contrivance to bring the 
characters into contact and relation with each other, and the 
invention of a suitable plot is a matter altogether too simple to 
have created the slightest difficulty to a mind like Chaucer's. 
He is essentially a dramatist, and if his great work does not 
appear in the conventional dramatic form, it is an accident of 
the time, and by no means proves a want of power of original 
conception or of artistic skill in the author. 

This is a point of interest in the history of modern literature, 
because it is probably the first instance of the exhibition of 
unquestionable dramatic genius in either the Grothic or the 
Komance languages. I do not mean that there had previously 
existed, in modern Europe, nothing like histrionic representa- 
tion of real or imaginary events ; but neither the Decameron of 
Boccaccio, to which the Canterbury Tales have been compared, 
nor any of the Mysteries and Moralities, or other imaginative 
works of the Middle Ages, in which several personages are 
introduced, show any such power of conceiving and sustaining 
individual character, as to prove that its author could have fur- 
nished the personnel of a respectable play. Chaucer, therefore, 
may fairly be said to be not only the earliest dramatic genius of 
modern Europe, but to have been a dramatist before that which 
is technically known as the existing drama was invented.* 

The tales related by the pilgrims are as various as the cha- 
racters of the narrators, grave, gay, pathetic, humorous, moral, 
licentious, chivalric and vulgar. Few of the stories — perhaps 
none of them — are original in invention, and some are little 
more than close translations from the Latin or the French ; 



* The second volume of the Eeliqnise Antiqnse of Wright and Halliwell contains 
a sermon -written in Chaucer's own time against ' Miracle Plays.' It is of con- 
siderable interest, both from its subject, and as a philological monument, and I 
subjoin to this lecture copious extracts from it. See Longer Notes and Illustra- 
tions, IV. 

£ s: 2 



420 THE NONNE PKESTES TALE Lect. IX. 

but most, especially those of a gayer cast, are thoroughly im- 
bued with Chaucer's spirit and with English national humour ; 
they have been animated with a new life, and all that constitutes 
their real literary value is entirely the poet's own. 

It is of course impossible to give an analysis of any number 
of these tales, and nothing but the perusal of them can convey 
to the student the least idea of their extraordinary merit. 

There are, however, besides the general features to which I 
have alluded, some traits which remarkably distiaguish all the 
tales — with the exception of two or three professedly didactic 
in character — from most of Chaucer's imitative works. They 
are pervaded with an eminently practical, life-like tone, and a 
pithy sententiousness which, by the exceeding appositeness of 
the sentiment to the circumstances detailed, is strikingly con- 
trasted with the moral platitudes and exhausted commonplaces 
of the French poets he so often copies, and still more strongly dis- 
tinguished from the ethical lessons with which contemporaneous 
writers so freely sprinkle their pages. English morality has 
generally been ethics in action, not in theory or profession, and 
Chaucer modified most of his Canterbury Tales in accordance 
with this trait of the national character. 

The ^ale which is most unmistakably marked with the 
peculiarities of Chaucer's genius, and is therefore the most 
characteristic of the series, is the Nonne Prestes Tale. This is 
a story of the carrying off of a cock by a fox, and the escape of 
the fowl from the devour er through the folly of Reynard in 
opening his mouth to mock his pursuers, in compliance with the 
advice of his prey. These mere incidents are certainly not of 
Chaucer's invention, and the naked plan of the tale has been 
thought to be borrowed from a French fable of about forty 
lines, found in the poems of Marie of France ; but Chaucer has 
extended it to more than six hundred verses, the part thus 
added consisting chiefly "of a dialogue — for, ' at thilke tyme,' 
'Bestis and briddes could speke and synge' — on the warnings 
conveyed by visions, between the cock, who had been terrified 



Lect. IX. THE NONNE PRESTES TALE 421 

by a dream, and the pride of Ms harem, *fayre damysel 
Pertilote,' whom he had waked by snoring in the agonies of his 
nightmare. In this discussion Partlet assails Chanticleer with 
both ridicule and argument, trying half to shame and half to 
reason him out of his unmanly fears : — 

* Away ! ' quod sche, ' fj on yow, lierteles ! 

Alias ! ' quod sche, ^ for by that God above I 

Now have ye lost myn hert, and al my love ; 

I can nought love a coward, by my feitli. 

For certis, what so eny womman seith, 

We alle desiren, if it mighte be, 

To have housbondes, hardy, riche, and fre, 

And secre and no nygard, ne no fool, 

Ne him that is agast of every tool, 

Ne noon avaunter, by that God above ! 

How dorst ye sayn, for schame ! imto your love, 

That any thing might make yow aiferd ? 

Have ye no mannes hert, and han a herd? ' 

She ascribes his dream to * replecciouns,' quotes ' Catoun, 
which that was so wise a man,' as saying, ' ne do no force of 
dremes,' and recommemis an energetic course of remedies ; — 

Of lauriol, century and fumytere, 

Or elles of elder bery, that growith there, 

Of catapus, or of gaytre beriis, 

Of erbe yve that groweth in our yerd. 

The cock, in his reply, questions the authority of Cato, and 
shows much reading, quoting freely from legendary and classic 
lore. He pities the womanly ignorance of his feathered spouse, 
and, apropos of the legend of ' Seint Kenelm,' says : — 

' I hadde lever than my schert, 
That ye had rad his legend, as have I, 
Dame Pertelot, I say yow trewely, 
Macrobius, that writ the avisioun 
In Auffrik of the worthy Cipioun, 
Affermeth dremes, and saith that tliay been 
Warnyng of thinges that men after seen. 



422 THE NONNE PEESTES TALE Lect. IX. 

And forthermore, I pray yow loketli wel 

In the Olde Testament, of Daniel, 

If he huld dremes eny vanyte ; 

Rede eek of Joseph, and ther schal ye see 

Whethir dremes ben som tyme (I say nought alle) 

Warnyng of thinges that schul after falle. 

Lok of Egipt the king, daun Pharao, 

His baker and his botiler also, 

Whethir thay felte noon effect in dremis.' 

He now tries to recover the good graces of his favourite 
sultana by a method familiar to henpecked husbands, personal 
flattery ; — 

' Whan I se the beaiite of your face, 
Ye ben so scarlet hiew about your eyghen, 
It makith al my drede for to deyghen.' 

But, by way of quiet retaliation for Partlet's sarcasms, he cites a 
Latin proverbial saying : Mulier est hominis confusio, which 
he turns into a comj^liment by this translation: — 



He now 



' Madame, the sentence of this Latyn is : 
Womman is mannes joye and mannes blis.* 

fleigh doun fro the beem 
For it was day, and eek his henncs alle. 
* * * * 

He lokith as it were a grim lioun ; 
And on his toon he rometh up and doun 
Him deyned not to set his foot to grounde. 
He chukkith, whan he hath a corn i-founde, 
And to him rennen than his wifes alle. 

The fox seizes him while he is crowing, and the conclusion of 
the tale is as follows : — 

Now, goode men, I pray herkneth alle ; 
Lo, hovi fortune torneth sodeinly 
The hope and pride eek of her enemy. 
This cok that lay upon this foxes bak, 
In al his di-ede, unto the fox he spak, 



Lect. IX. THE KNIGHTES TALE 423 

And saide, ' sire, if that I were as ye, 

Yet schiild I sayn, (as wis God lielpe me) ; 

' Turnetli agein, ye protide clierles alle ; 

A verray pestilens upon yow falle. 

Now am I come unto this woodes syde, 

Maugre youre hede, the cok schal heer abyde ; 

I wol him ete in faith, and that anoon.' 

The fox answered, ' in faith, it schal be doon.* 

And whil he spak that word, al sodeinly 

This cok brak from his month delyverly, 

And heigh upon a tree he fleigh anoon. 

And whan the fox seigh that he was i-goon, 

* Alias ! ' quod he, ' o Chaunteclere, alias ! 

I have to yow,' quod he, '■ y-don trespas, 

Inasmoche as I makid you aferd. 

Whan I yow hent, and brought out of the yerd ; 

But, sire, I dede it in no Avicked entent; 

Com doun, and I schal telle yow what I ment. 

I schal say soth to yow, God help me so.' 

^Nay than,' quod he, ' I schrew us bothe tuo. 

And first I schrew myself, bothe blood and boones, 

If thou bigile me any ofter than oones. 

Thou schalt no more thurgh thy flaterye, 

Do me to synge and wynke with myn ye. 

For he that wynldth, whan he scholde see, 

Al wilfully, God let him never the ! ' 

*• Nay,' quod the fox, ' but God him give meschaimce, 

That is so undiscret of governaunce. 

That jangleth, when he scholde holde his pees.' 

The Knightes Tale, or the Story of Palamon and Arcite, is a 
favourable instaDce of Chaucer's manner of dealing with the 
fables he borrowed from Eomance authors. The Knight's Tale 
is an abridged translation of a part of Boccaccio's Teseide, but 
-with considerable changes in the plan, which is, perhaps, not 
much improved, and with important additions in the descriptive 
and the more imaginative portions of the story. These additions 
are not inferior to the finest parts of Boccaccio's work, and one 
of them, the description of the Temple of Mars, is particularly 
interesting, as proving that Chaucer possessed a power of 



424 THE KNIGHTES TALE Lect. IX. 

treating the grand and terrible, of which no modern poet but 
Dante had yet given an example. The poet here intermixes 
the comic with the tragic, as actual life, and life's great inter- 
preter, Shakespeare, so often do. Nature smiles through her 
tears. Isolated events, it is true, are frequently stamped with 
unmitigated sadness, but human life, as a whole, whether 
individual or general, is interspersed with ludicrous scenes. 

There is some confusion between the description of the 
edifice itself, and of the paintings upon the walls of it ; but it 
seems to have been a representation, at Thebes, of a temple 
of Mars in Thrace, with its decorations. One feature of the 
construction of the temple is very striking, as showing the 
ghastly character of the light by which the darkness of its 
interior was made visible : . 

The northen light in at the dore schon, 
For wyndow in the walle ne was there noon, 
Thorugh which men might no light discerne. 

I suppose the * northern light' is the aurora borealis, but this 
phenomenon is so rarely mentioned by mediaeval writers, that 
it may be questioned whether Chaucer meant anything more 
than the faint and cold illumination received by reflection 
through the door of an apartment fronting the north. 

The views which the poets of classic antiquity and those of the 
middle ages took of nature, were modified and limited partly 
by the character of their knowledge of physical law, and partly 
by the actual connection between natural phenomena and the 
practical interests of human life. Celestial and meteoric ap- 
pearances, which neither affected the temperature of the atmo- 
sphere and the distribution of rain and snow, nor were regarded 
as explicable by known law, or as possessing an astrological 
significance capable of interpretation, appear to have attracted 
very little attention. In like manner, terrestrial objects, which 
were not sources of danger or of profit, which neither helped 
nor hindered material interests, did not in general excite interest 
enough to stimulate to the closeness of observation which is 



Lect. IX. THE SQUYEEES TALE 425 

necessary to bring out the latent poetry that lies hid under 
Nature's rudest surfaces. Ignorance of geography and of his- 
tory smothered the cosmopolite charity which ages of wider 
instruction and culture have shown, and it is not strange that 
the Grreeks, who regarded every foreigner as a barbarian, 
entitled to none of the privileges of Hellenic humanity, should 
have felt no sympathy with those humble creatures which men 
too selfishly consider as at all times subject to their irrespon- 
sible dominion, and as without individual rights and interests 
of their own. It is difficult to suppose such changes in phj^sical 
law as the non-appearance of the aurora borealis, during the 
many centuries which have left no record of this striking 
phenomenon, would imply; but when we remember that the 
poetry of Grreece and of Eome contains only the fewest, faintest, 
and most questionable allusions to the phosphoric sparkling of 
the sea, we may well believe that those who had a hundred times 
witnessed the coruscation of the northern lights, thought it a 
meteor too unrelated to the life of man to be worthy of poetic 
celebration. 

Every student of Chaucer, in reading the Squyeres Tale, 
will share the wish of Milton, that we could — 

Call up him who left half told 

The story of Cambuscan bold, 

Of Camball, and of Algarsife, 

And who had Canace to wife, 

That own'd the virtuous ring of glass, 

And of the wondrous horse of brass 

On which the Tartar king did ride. 
This most admirable tale, which is unfortunately unfinished, 
is the wildest and the most romantic of Chaucer's works. The 
origin of the fable has not been discovered, and it has been 
argued that it must have been drawn from an Oriental source ; 
not because any analogon to it is known to exist in Eastern 
literature, but because it is too little in harmony with the 
character of European invention to be supposed of Occidental 
growth. However this may be, the scene and accessories of the 



426 . THE SQUYERES TALE Lect. IX, 

story do not belong to the sphere of Oriental fiction, and the 
following speculations of the bystanders on the mysterious pro- 
perties of the brazen horse and the magic mirror, sword and 
ring, can hardly be other than the work of Chaucer, if not in 
substance, at least in form and tone : 

Greet was the pres that swarmed to and fro 
To ganren on this hors that stondeth so ; 
For it so high was, and so bred and long, 
So wel proporcioned to be strong, 
Right as it were a steed of Lumbardye ; 
Therto so horsly, and so qnyk of ye, 
As if a gentil Poyleys courser were ; 
For certes, fro his tayl unto his eere 
Nature ne art ne couthe him nought amende 
In no degre, as al the poepel wende. 
But evermore her moste wonder was, 
Plow that it couthe goon, and was of bras ; 
It was of fayry, as the poe|)le semed. 
Diverse peple diversly they domed; 
As many hedes, as many wittes been. 
They murmured, as doth a swarm of been, 
And made skiles after her fantasies, 
Rehersyng of the olde poetries, 
. And seyden it was i-like the Pagase, 
The hors that hadde wynges for to fie, 
Or elles it was the Grekissch hors Synon, 
That broughte Troye to destruccioun. 
As men may in the olde gestes rede. 
* Myn hert,' quod oon, ' is evermore in drede, 
I trow som men of armes ben therinne, 
That schapen hem this cite for to wynne ; 
It were good that such thing were knowe.' 
Another rowned to his felaw lowe. 
And sayde : ' It lyth, for it is rather Hk 
An apparence maad by some magik. 
As jogelours play en at this festes grete.* 
Of sondry thoughtes thus they jangle and trete, 
As lewed peple demeth comunly 
Of thinges that ben maad more subtily 



Lect. IX. - THE SQUYERES TALE 427 

Than they can in her lewednes comprehende, > 
They deemen gladly to the badder ende. 
And som of hem wondred on the mirrour, 
That born was tip into the maister tour, 
How men might in it suche thinges se. 
Another answerd, and sayd, it might wel be 
Natnrelly by composiciouns 
Of angels, and of heigh reflexiouns ; * 
And sayde that in Eome was such oon. 
They speeke of Alhazen and Yitilyon, 
And Aristotle, that writen in her lyves 
Of queynte myrrours and prospectyves, 
As knowen they that han her bokes herd. 
And other folk have wondred on the swerd, 
That wolde passe thbrnghont everything ; 
And fel in speche of Telophns the kyng, 
And of Achilles for his queynte spere, 
For he couthe with it bothe hele and dere, 
Eight in such wise as men may with the swerd, 
Of which right now ye have your selven herd. 
They speeken of sondry hardyng of metal, 
And speken of medicines therwithal, 
And how and whan it schulde harded be, 
Which is unknoAve algat unto me. 
Tho speeken they of Canacees ryng, 
And seyden alle, that such a wonder thing 
Of craft of rynges herd they never noon, 
Sauf that he Moyses and kyng Salamon 

* This reasoning reminds one of the popnlar explanation of table-turning and 
other kindred mysteries. Persons who cannot detect the trick, and are afraid of 
being suspected of a superstitious belief in the supernatural character of the 
phenomenon, if they honestly confess their inability to solve the problem, 
take refuge in 'science,' and ascribe the alleged facts to electricity, though the 
known powers of that agent are as inadequate to furnish a rationale of the extra- 
ordinary gyrations and saltations which bewitched tables, chairs and other house- 
hold gear are afiirmed to execute, as are 

* composiciouns 
Of angels [angles], and heigh reflexiouns,* 

to explain the properties of the Tartar's magic mirror. 

Men love to cheat themselves with hard words, and indolence often accepts the 
na7ne of a phenomenon as a substitute for the o'eason of it. 



428 CHAUCER AND GOWER Lect. IX. 

* Hadden a name of connyng in such art. 
Thus seyen the peple, and drawen hem apart. 
But natheles som seiden that it was 
Wonder thing .to make of feme aisschen glas, 
And yit is glas nought like aisschen of feme, 
But for they han i-knowen it so feme ; 
Therfor cesseth her janglyng and her wonder. 
As sore wondred som of cause of thonder, 
On ebbe and flood, on gossomer, and on myst, 
And on alle thing, til that the cause is wist. 
Thus janglen they, and demen and devyse, 
Til that the kyng gan fro his bord arise. 

Two other tales are invested with a good deal of critical 
interest, by the fact that they are generally supposed to have 
been taken, though with important modifications, from Grower's 
Confessio Amantis, which is believed to have been published 
while Chaucer was engaged upon the Canterbury Tales. But 
G-ower appears to have invented nothing, and as not only the 
incidents but the plots of both tales are found in more ancient 
forms, it is more probable that the tw^o poets borrowed them 
from a common source than that one of them, even before the 
days of copyright, should, without acknowledgement, have pla- 
giarized from a friend and contemporary of his own nation. 
Either would, no doubt, have made free use of foreign authors, 
and of those popular legends which had for centuries floated 
about the world, and were fairly to be regarded as nuUiusfilii, 
common property, to which possession was a sufficient title ; but 
Chaucer cannot be convicted of ' con\? eying' anything that was 
rightfully Gower's, without stronger evidence than the resem- 
blance between these stories. Indeed there is, in Gower's dic- 
tion, some internal evidence that the story of Const^ance is a 
translation from the French, such, for example, as the use of 
enviroune as an adverb, in the French sense of nearly, 
about, as: 

Within a ten mile enviroune, 



Lect. IX. CHAUCER AND GOWER 429 

within about ten miles.* Other instances to the same purpose 
might be cited ; but when we consider the intimate relations of 
the two languages, and the uncertainty of the boundary between 
them at that period, it -must be admitted that such evidence is 
worth little. 

The leading incidents of the stories are the same in both 
authors, but in Chaucer's version, have, in general, more minute- 
ness of detail, though it is observable that where Grower is the 
most circumstantial, Chaucer is the most concise; and in his 
treatment of the tales there are many passages, where there is 
an appearance of artificial condensation and abridgement of the 
narrative as related by Grower, and a studied neglect of circum- 
stances not wholly uninteresting in themselves, but, at the 
same time, not essential to the conduct of the story. 

Grower's work had been recently published, and was fresh in 
the memory of those for whom Chaucer was writing ; hence it 
is highly probable that these variations were introduced for the 
express purpose of giving a new tone and character to histories, 
the leading circumstances of which were already familiar. A 
stanza in Chaucer's version of the Man of Lawes Tale, or the 
History of Constance, is particularly curious, because, as some 
of Chaucer's critics have suggested, it is evidently designed as a 
criticism upon Gower's treatment of an incident in the story. 
In both narratives. King Alia, a Saxon king, visiting Eome as 
a pilgrim, invites the Emperor of Eome to dine with him. In 
Grower, Morice, the son of King Alia, is sent to an imperial 
country residence, to deliver the invitation. G-ower thus ex- 
presses this : — 

This emperour out of the towne, 
Within a ten mile enviroune, 
Where as it thought him for the beste 
Hath sondry places for to reste, 

* Enviroun is used in the same way in the Libel of English Policy, a poem of 
the following century, which will be noticed hereafter, and by Lydgate, but I have 
not observed it in any work of Grower's time. 



430 CHAUCER AND GOWER LecT- IX. 

And as fortune Avolde it tho 

He was dwellend at one of tho. 

The King Allee forth with thassent 

Of Custe his wife hath thider sent 

Morice his sone, as he was taught, 

To the emperour, and he goth straught 

And in his fader halve he sought 

As he, which e his lordship sought, ' 

That of his highe worthinesse 

He wolde do so greet mekenesse, 

His owne town to come and se, 

And yive a time in the citee, 

So that his fader might him gete, 

That he wolde ones with him ete. 

This did not suit Chaucer's more courtly notions of the 
respect and deference due from even a king to so exalted and 
sacred a personage as the Emperor of Rome, and he makes King 
Alia present the invitation in person, censuring at tlie same time 
Gower's version of the story, thus : 

Som men wold seye, how that his child Maurice 

Doth liis message unto the emperour: 

But, as I gesse. Alia was nat so nyce. 

To him that is so soverayn of honour. 

As he that is of Cristes folk the flour. 

Sent eny child, hut it is best to deeme 

He went himsilf, and so it may wel seme. 

There is, upon the whole, no doubt that Chaucer's is the later 
production, and, though it is a more finished performance than 
that of Gower, it is somewhat injured by the intentional omis- 
sion of circumstances which are used not without effect in 
Gower's version, but which Chaucer dropped, in order that the 
coincidence between the two might not be too close. 

The other narrative which has been thought to be borrowed 
from the Confessio Amantis, is the Wyf of Bathes Tale. The 
dialect of this story, as given by Gower, varies considerably from 
that of the rest of his poem, as it is older in structure, and con- 
tains several obsolete words which Gower does not elsewhere 



Lect. IX. JOHN aOWEK 431 

employ. It is therefore, in all probability, an adaptation of a 
more ancient tale, in wbich tbe incidents, and in part the lan- 
guage, are preserved. In Chaucer's version there is the same 
manifest intention of departing from Grower as in the story of 
Constance, and it is in this tale that he enforces, in the person of 
the old dame, the opinions concerning the true test of gentle 
rank, which he had formerly interpolated into his translation of 
the Eomaunt of the Eose. No such opinions are expressed by 
Grower, or, so far as I know, by any older English or French 
author, and they are no doubt Chaucer's own.* 

Grower was a contemporary of the author of Piers Ploughman, 
and of Wycliffe as well as of Chaucer. He is known to English 
readers by the long poem styled the Confessio Amantis, or 
Lover's Confession. The reputation of Gower, which was, for a 
long time, above his merits, seems to be in some measure due 
to his connection with Chaucer, though he did not entertain 

^ A remarkable form of expression, which occurs in verse 3098 of the Eomaunt 
of the Eose, and which I do not remember to haye observed elsewhere in Chaucer's 
works, deserves special notice — 

* Say boldely thy will' (quod he) 

* I nill be Avroth, if that I may, 

For nought that thou shalt to me say.* 

The meaning of the phrase, *if that I may,' here is : if I can not-he wroth; if I 
;an refrain from being wroth. I find an analogous phrase in Paul Louis Courier 
Pamphlets Politiques, Seconde Lettre Particuliere : ' Vous ne saurez rien cette 
fois ; pas un mot, nuUe nouvelle ; pour vous punir, je veux ne vous rien dire, si je 
'puis.^ I will not-tell you anything, if I can.' 

In both these passages, the determination, in the mind of the speaker, not-to-do 
the thing in question, or to refrain from it, is conceived to be so strong, that it has 
ceased to be a mere negation, and has assumed the form of a proposition logically 
positive. 

In Chaucer, the coalescent negative verb, nill, gives the expression a force 
which Courier could not attain to ; for in languages where a negative verbal form 
exists, the negation is more energetic than when a separate particle is used. The 
Latin nolo, the English / nill, are a species of affirmative, which means more 
than non volo,7 will not — the absence of a volition — and, on the contrary, 
implies a strong volition in the opposite direction. Courier felt this, and there- 
fore he does not use the negative verb, je ne veux, but he puts the expression of 
will in an affirmative iovm: je veux, and connects the negative with the act: 
nC'Vous-ricU'dire* 



432 Gower's confessio amantis Lect. ix. 

the views of reform which Chaucer shared with the other great 
writers of that century whom we have just named. His literary- 
inferiority is perhaps to be ascribed to the very fact that he 
did not possess the manly independence and moral courage of 
Wycliffe and of Chaucer, and was unable to shake off the 
feeling of deference to traditional authority, which in all ages 
has proved so generally fatal to originality in productive intel- 
lectual effort. 

Many of Grower's works are in Latin, and the only one which 
is generally accessible is the Confessio Amantis, an English 
poem, written, as the author declares, at the request of King 
Eichard II. In a proem which was suppressed in the copies 
issued after Eichard's deposition, he thus states the motive and 
occasion of the composition of this work : 

I thenke and have it nnderstonde, 
As it befell upon a tide, 
As thing, which shulde tho betide, 
Under the town of newe Troy, 
Which toke of Brute his firste joy, 
In Themse, whan it was flowend, 
As I by bote came rowend. 
So as fortune her time sette, 
My lege lord perchaunce I mette, 
And so befell as I came nigh. 
Out of my boote, whan he me sigh, 
He bad me come into his barge. 
And whan I was with him at large, 
Amonges other thinges said, 
He hath this charge upon me laid, 
And bad me do my besinesse, . 
That to his liighe worthynesse 
Some newe thing I shulde boke, , 
That he himself it mighte loke 
After the forme of my writing. 

The language of this last couplet would seem to imply that, 
though we have Froissart's testimony to the fact that the King 
knew French, he was ignorant of Latin, and desired to have 



Lect. IX. aOWER's CONFESSIO AMANTIS 433 

something from tlie pen of Grower, which he could read by 
himself, without the aid of an interpreter. He resolved to 
comply with the royal command, and, because 

men sain, and sothe it is, 
That who that al of wisdom writ, 
It dulleth ofte a mannes wit, 
To hem that shall it alday rede, 

to produce something of a less grave and severe cast than his 
former works ; to — 

go the middel wey. 
And write a boke betwene the twey, 

Somewhat of lust, somewhat of lore, 

* * * * 

And for that fewe men endite 
In OTire englisshe, I thenke make 

A boke for King Eichardes sake. 

* * * * 

To make a boke after his heste. 
And write in such a maner wise, 
Which may be wisdome to the wise, 
And play to hem that list to play. 

The title of the poem. The Lover's Confession, indicates its 
general subject, which is a consultation, in the form of a con- 
fession, between an unsuccessful lover and an experienced 
counsellor. The prologue is devoted to an exposure of the 
evils of the time, in which the schism in the church is alluded 
to, as the cause of the social wrongs of the age, and of the cor- 
ruptions of the clergy, including, of course. 

This newe secte of lollardie. 

The prologue is much superior to the rest of the work, though 
certainly not very appropriate to the poem. The author seems 
to have written it with the view of covertly giving the king 
some useful suggestions, by pointing out existing abuses, and 
hinting at the remedy. He speaks of himself and his general 
purpose thus: 

F F 



434 Gower's confessio amantis Lect. IX. 

I whicli am a borel clerke 
Purpose for to write a boke 
After tlie worlde, that whilom toke 
Long time in olde claies passed. 
But for men sain it is now lassed 
In worse pHght than it was tho, 
I thenke for to touche also 
The world, which neweth every day, 
So as I can, so as I may. 
Though I sikenesse have upon honde 
And longe have had, yet wol I fonde 
To write and do my besinesse. 
That in some part so as I gesse 
The wise man may ben advised. 

The following laudatio temporis acti is a fair specimen of 
tlie general tone of the prologue : — 

If I shall drawe into my minde 
The time passed, than I finde 
The world stode in al his welthe, 
Tho was the life of man in helthe, 
Tho was plente, tho was richesse, 
Tho was the fortune of prowesse, 
Tho was knighthode in pris by name, 
Wherof the wide worldes fame 
Write in croniques is yet witholde. 
Justice of laAve tho was holde, 
The privelege of regalie 
Was sauf, and all the baronie 
Worshiped was in his estate. 
The citees knewen no debate, 
The people stode in obeisaunce 
Under the reule of governaunce, 
And pees with rightwisnesse keste, 
With charite tho stode in reste, 
Of mannes herte the corage 
Was shewed than in the visage. 
The word Avas liche to the conceiptc, 
Without semblaunt of deceipte, 
Tho was there unenvied love, 



Lect. IX. gowee's confessio amantis 435 

Tlio Avas vertiie set above, 

Aiid vice was put under fote. 

Now stant the crope under tlie rote, 

The worlde is chaunged overall, 

And therof moste in speciall 

That love is falle into discorde. 

And that I take to recorde 

Of every lond for his partie 

The comun vols, which may nought lie, 

Nought upon one, but upon alle. 

It is that men now clepe and calle 

And sain, that regnes ben devided, 

In stede of love is hate guided, 

The werre wol no pees purchace. 

And lav/e hath take her double face, 

So that justice out of the wey 

With rightwisnesse is gone awey. 

And thus to loke on every halve. 

Men sene the sore without salve, 

Whiche al the worlde hath overtake. 

Tiier is no regne of alle out take. 

For every climat hath his dele 

After the torninge of the whele, 

Which blinde fortune overthroweth, 

Wherof the certain no man knoweth, 

The heven wot what is to done. 

At fhe commencement of the action, the author, in the 
character of a despairing lover, wanders alone in a forest, and 
offers a prayer to Venus, who makes her appearance and refers 
the suppliant to her priest, for counsel and consolation. After 
an exhortation from this father confessor, the penitent begins 
his shrift, which is chiefly in the form of answers to questions, 
Venus's priest being evidently partial to the Socratic method of 
arp-ument. The counsels and comforts of the confessor consist 
principally of narratives, from ancient as well as mediaeval 
legendary lore, which have generally little application to the 
immediate subject. These are mainly, if not altogether, trans- 
lations, or rather metrical paraphrases, from classical as well as 

F F 2 



436 JOHN GOWER Lect. IX. 

later Latin authors, and are executed with very moderate skill, 
whether considered as versions or as adaptations. Of original 
imaginative power, the poem shows not the slightest trace, and 
its principal merit lies in the sententious passages, which are 
here and there interspersed, and which, whether borrowed or 
original, are often pithy and striking. In his earlier works, 
Gower had employed Latin and French altogether. It is 
generally supposed that he adopted English as the language of 
the Confessio Amantis in consequence of the success of Chaucer's 
poem in the vernacular ; but I think the lines I have already 
quoted authorise us to believe that English was selected in com- 
pliance with the wish of the monarch, at whose request the 
work was undertaken. 

Of Grower's principal French work, the Speculum Medi- 
tantis, no copy is known to be in existence, but there are 
extant about fifty French amatory ballads composed by him in 
imitation of Provenzal models, but which seem to exhibit no 
special merit in invention or in style. 

In one of these, he apologises for his want of command of 
French, as an Englishman, and it is remarkable that, if he w^s 
conscious of any deficiency in this respect, he should not have 
resorted to English until a late period of his life.* It is not 
improbable, as has been often suggested, that certain passages . 
in the prologue to Chaucer's prose Testament of Love, con- 
demning the use of French by native English writers, may 
have been aimed at Grower. ' There ben some,' says he, * that 
speke their poysy mater in Frenche, of whyche speche the 
Frenche men have as good a fantasye, as we have in hearing of 
Frenche mennes Englysshe.' 'Let then clerks endyten in 

^ Al universite de tout le monde 
Johan Gower ceste balade envoie, 
Et si jeo nai de fran9ois la faconde, 
Pardonetz moi qe jeo de eeo forsvoie. 
Jeo sui Englois si quier par tiele voie 
Estre excuse mais quoique nulls endie, 
Lamour parfit en dieu se justifie. 



Lect. IX. power's veesification 437 

Latyn, for they have the propertye of science, and the knowinge 
in that facultye ; and lette Frenchmen in theyr Frenche also 
endyte theyr queynt termes, for it is kyndly to theyr njouthes ; 
and let us shewe our fantasyes in siiche wordes as we lerned of 
our dames tonge.'* 

Grower certainly survived Chaucer, but was probably born 
before him. His English is philologically older, both in voca- 
bulary and in grammatical structure, than that of Chaucer, 
though younger in both respects than the dialect of Piers 
Ploughman. Pauli ascribes his frequent use of French words 
to his habit of composing in that language, but his vocabulary 
does not differ essentially in this respect from those of Lang- 
lande, Chaucer, and other authors of their time ; and I see no 
reason for believing that his dialect was more affected by 
Eomance influences than the common written language of the 
age in which he lived. 

The metre of the Confessio Amantis is the octosyllabic, of 
four iambuses, besides the superfluous syllable which often 
makes what is called a feminine rhyme. In point of rhythm 
^d metre. Grower's versification is smooth, though less melo- 
dious than that of Chaucer, and his rhymes are inartificial, the 
same word, or the same entire syllable, being repeated for the 
consonance, without scruple. This peculiarity is also observable 
in his French ballads. The conjugation of the verb is varied 
to suit the convenience of the poet, with little regard to the 
Saxon distinction of strong and weak inflection, or to what 
appears to have been the common usage of his age. He also 
confounds the affirmative particles yea and yes, at least accord- 

^' This passage and that before referred to are not the anly ones in which. 
Chaucer appears to censure his hrather poet ; for the condemnation he passes, in 
the prologue to the Man of Lawes Tale, on the immorality of the stories of Canace 
and of Apollonius of Tyre, both of which are found in the Confessio Amantis, is 
understood by Tyrwhitt and other critics to have been designed to apply to Gower. 
It is much to be lamented that Chaucer himself should have polluted his own 
greatest work with such shocking grossness and licentiousness as many of his tales 
exhibit. 

t See First Series, Lecture I. p. 22. 



438 gower's diction Lect. IX. 

ing to Pauli's text ; but this may be the fault of editors and 
print ers, for in Grower's time no English idiom was better esta- 
blished than this distinction. In fact, though not without 
power as a sententious thinker, Gower gives little evidence of 
artistic skill, or of the possession of any of the higher attributes 
of the poet. 

Philologically speaking, Grower is, as I have already remarked, 
older than Chaucer, though his first English work was not com- 
posed until thQ reputation of Chaucer, as a great original and 
national poet, was established. The difference, however, in 
this respect, is in degree rather than in kind, and as it consists 
more in the tone, and in a negative want of the life and fresh- 
ness and accuracy of Chaucer's English, it is not easy to specify 
its peculiarities. I may however mention, in addition to the 
irregularity in verbal inflection already noticed, the more fre- 
quent use of the participial termination in -end, which marks 
,the true distinction between the present participle and the 
verbal noun in -ing — a distinction, which, as was observed in a 
former lecture, became obsolete in English in the latter part of 
the fourteenth century, though kept up long afterwards in the 
Scottish dialect. There are, so far i^as I have been able to 
observe, no improvements of diction or style in Grower, which 
had not been as well, or better, exemplified by Chaucer ; and in 
these particulars the latter must be considered the master of 
the former. Skelton and those who have copied him are there- 
fore in error in saying that — ' G-ower first garnished our 
English rude,' for most of Chaucer's works are older than the 
Confessio Amantis, and Grower himself makes Venus style 
Chaucer ' her poet,' and say that — 

in the lloures of his youth, 
In sundry wise, as he well couth, 
Of dittees and of songes glade, 
The which he for my sake made, 
The lond fulfilled is over all. 

This, of course, implies that Chaucer's poems had already 



Lect. IX. LITERATUEE OF FOUrvTEENTH CENTURY 439 

acquired a wide circulation before Grower wrote in English 
verse at all. 

The Confessio Amantis, tlien^ did not directly aid in enlarging 
the vocabulary or improving the syntax of English ; and it did 
not introduce new metrical forms or enrich the poetical diction. 
But it was useful in diffusing a knowledge of the new literary 
tongue, in familiarizing the English speech as a written lan- 
guage to those whose proper heritage it was — but who had been 
taught alien accents by a foreign nurse — thus giving to it its 
just and lawful predominance in the land where it was cradled, 
and had now grown to a strong and luxuriant adolescence. 

Grower was rather an imitator of Chaucer than the creator of 
his own literary style ; but his works, as being of a higher moral 
tone, or at least of higher moral pretensions, and at the same 
time, of less artificial refinement, v/ere calculated to reach and 
influence a somewhat larger class than that which would be 
attracted by the poems of Chaucer, and, consequently, they 
seem to have had a wider circulation. The name of Chaucer 
does not, I believe, occur in the works of Shakespeare ; but the 
play of Pericles — which, though its authorship is disputed, was 
published in Shakespeare's own time as a work of his compo- 
sition — is avovfedly formed on the story of Apollinus, Prince of 
Tyre, in the Confessio Amantis ; and Grower himself is intro- 
duced by name into the play, and performs the office of the 
chorus of the ancient drama. There is no doubt that the poem 
of Grower, however inferior to the works of his master, was much 
esteemed in his lifetime, and still enjoyed a high reputation 
in ages when Chaucer was almost forgotten. But posterity has 
reversed the judgement of its immediate predecessors, and though 
Gower will long be read, he will never again dispute the palm 
of excellence mth the true father of English literature. 

In taking leave of the great authors of the fourteenth century, 
I ought perhaps to apologise for devoting so large a portion of 
this brief course to the dialect and the literature of that period-; 
But I am convinced that the importance of Langiande and 



440 OKiaiNAL MANUSCKIPTS Lect. IX. 

Wycliffe and Chaucer to all subsequent English philology and 
intellectual effort, though long vaguely recognised, is not yet 
appreciated and understood. Nor shall we be able to estimate 
their relative place and just significance in our literary history, 
until still more of the forgotten authorship of that and the 
preceding centuries shall be brought to light, and linguistic 
science, as ajoplied to the English tongue, be much further 
advanced than it now is, or, without increased facilities of in- 
vestigation, can be. 

From the corruption of original texts through the ignorance 
or arrogance of those who transcribed them, it is evident that 
we can ascertain the grammatical system of particular writers 
of the period we are discussing only by the examination of 
authors' copies. This renders the publication of such, whenever 
they can be discovered, a matter of great interest and importance. 
If, indeed, the manuscript of the earliest version of the Old 
Testament, which is ascribed to Hereford^ is really his own, 
the value attached to such originals might well seem exag- 
gerated, for it would be clear that one important authority 
was not to be reconciled with itself. Not onl}^ does the latter 
portion of that translation differ from the earlier in its inflec- 
tional system, but in the books which come last in the manu- 
script, the grammar is, in many points, more archaic than in 
the books which precede them in the copy, and which therefore, 
presumably, were first executed. Doubtless, the paleographical 
evidence is decisive as to the identity of the handwriting in the 
historical books and the Prophets. But it is a long step from 
this question to that of the authorship of the manuscript, and 
even the opinion of the very learned and conscientious editors 
of the Wycliffite translations cannot outweigh the internal 
evidence to the contrary, unless supported by strong external 
testimony. Until such proof is adduced, we are at liberty to 
believe that the manuscript ascribed to Hereford is not an, 
original, but a copy of a version by at least two different trans- 
lators, who adopted different systems of accidence. 



Lect. IX. LITEEATURE OP FOUHTEENTH CENTUEY 441 

The original manuscript of a translation of Higden's Poly- 
chronicon by Trevisa, a contemporary of Chaucer, is said, upon 
I know not what authority, to be still extant, and is now in 
course of publication. Trevisa is reported to have translated 
the whole or a part of the Bible into English, and the publica- 
tion of the chronicle may throw some light on his connection 
with the Wycliffite versions, and thus contribute to elucidate 
some very important questions in the history .of the language 
and history of England.* 

The zeal and activity of British scholarship are fast rescuing 
the remaining sibylline leaves of old English literature from 
destruction, and a few years more will prepare the way for the 
crowning labour in the early philology of England — a worthy 
edition of the worthiest of her ancient poets, the immortal 
Chaucer. 

In the meantime, though the texts of the authors upon whom 
I have dwelt so long present many prosodical and grammatical 
problems which ca^nnot yet be solved, they are all perfectly 
accessible, and, so far as the general purposes of literary culture 
and literary criticism require, intelligible. By the help of the 
notes and glossaries which accompany the recent editions of old 
English writers, from Layamon and the Ormulum to Langlande, 
Wycliffe, Chaucer and Grower, every one of them may be easily 
read, without preparatory study, and a great familiarity with 
their dialect may be acquired at less cost of time and labour 
than are needed to learn to spell out, by help of dictionary and 
grammar, a page of French or Grerman. 

But, like the traveller, who, absorbed by the fair, proportions 
of a Grrecian portico and the living sculptures of its pediment, 
forgets to explore the interior of the temple, I have lingered 
too long about the vestibule, and must now h^tsten to pass 
through the darkened corridors which lead to the still more 
sacred portions of the magnificent structure. 

* See Longer Kotes and Illustrations, V. at the end of this lecture. 



442 SIGNIFICAKCE OF WOKDS Lect. IX. 

LONGER NOTES AND ILLUSTEATIONS. 
I. 

SIGNIFICANCE OF INDIVIDUAL WORDS. 

The shallowness of popular English and American criticism is no- 
where more glaringly manifested than in the extravagant commendations 
which have been bestowed on some modern dictionary-makers, as philo- 
sophical expositors and discriminators of words. 

Lexicographers are under a constant temptation to save themselves 
labour by building on the foundation of their predecessors, and to 
study dictionaries, not literature. They thus acquire the habit of re- 
garding words as completely significant individuals, and they are prone 
to multiply descriptions, to make distinctions where no difference exists, 
and especially to ascribe to single vocables meanings which belong, 
either to entire phraseological combinations, grammatical agglutinations 
so to speak, or to a different member of the phrase from that to which 
they assign them. Hence their definitions are too diffuse, and often so 
much embarrassed by conditions and qualifications as to smother the 
radical idea of the word altogether, or to confine it to a special sense 
which it only accidentally possesses, instead of giving it a general 
expression, which admits of the protean variety of shade and extension, 
that, in cultivated languages, belongs to almost all words, except names 
of visible objects, and mere terms of art whose signification is not 
organically developed from the root, but arbitrarily and conventionally 
imposed upon it. In studying the definitions of the dictionaries which 
pass for the best in this respect, we find that there was in the mind of 
the lexicographer not a clearness of distinction, but a confusion of 
thought arising from the habit of incessantly poring on word-lists, and 
constantly contemplating individual terms isolated from those connec- 
tions and relations which alone can breathe into them a living spirit, 
and make them anything but unelastic and inert matter. 

It is futile to attempt to make that absolute which is, in its nature, 
relative and conditional, to formulate that Avhich in itself does not con- 
stitute an individual and complete idea, to make technical definition a 
mouthpiece for words which ought to be allowed to speak for them- 
selves by exemplification, and to petrify them into a rigidity of form 
irreconcilable with that play of feature which is so essential to life-like 
expressiveness. Dictionary-definitions, considered as a means of philo- 



Lect. IX. OBSOLETE ANGlLO-SAXON WORDS 443 

logical instruction, are as inferior to miscellaneous reading as a liortus- 
siccus to a botanic garden. "Words, with tlie exception above stated, 
exert tlieir living powers, and give utterance to sentiment and meaning, 
only in the organic combinations for Avhich nature has adapted them, 
and not in the alphabetic single-file in which lexicographers post and 
drill them. The signification of the vocabulary belonging to the higher 
workings of the mind and heart depends on the context, and therefore 
these words have almost as many shades of meaning as they have pos- 
sible combinations with other words in periods and phrases. These 
shades can only be perceived and apprehended by a wide familiarity 
with the literature which presents verbal combinations in all their 
variety ; and all that a dictionary can do is to give the general meaning 
of the vocable and illustrate its changeable hues by exemplification of 
its most important uses. There does not exist a dictionary of any lan- 
guage, living or dead, whose definitions are to be considered evidence 
as to the exact meaning of words. The best dictionary of any living 
language yet executed is unquestionably that of the German by the 
brothers Grimm, now in course of publication. These great philologists 
do not attempt formal definition at all. They give the nearest corres- 
ponding Latin equivalent, and a brief general indication of the meaning 
of the word, but leave the student to gather the precise signification or 
significations from the exemplifications. Eichardson's valuable English 
dictionary gives no definitions. A dictionary is but an index to the 
literature of a given speech ; or rather it bears to language the relation 
which a digest bears to a series of legal reports. Neither is an authority ; 
and he is but a sorry lawyer who cites the one, an iiidiiferent scholar 
who quotes the other, as such. 



n. 

OBSOLETE ANGLO-SAXON WORDS. 

In Illustration I. to Lecture III. I have given a list of many Anglo- 
Saxon words derived from the three roots, hyge or hige, mind or 
thought ; mod, mind, passion, irritability, wit, genius, intellect, sense ; 
and ge- thane, mind, thought, opinion. Of these, hyge and its score 
of derivations are all obsolete. Of the equally numerous progeny of 
mod, there remain only mood, moodily, moodiness, moody, mad. The 
thirty Anglo-Saxon words derived from wit are reduced to less than 
half a dozen, thongh we have formed several new compounds and 
derivations from the same root. From gc- thane, we have a larger 



444 OBSOLETE ANGLO-SAXON WORDS Lect. IX. 

numberj but many of them are of modern formation, and most of the 
Anglo-Saxon derivatives from this root are obsolete. The preface to 
Alfred's Boethius cited in Illustration IV. Lecture III. contains, exclu- 
sive of repetitions and various forms and inflections of the same vocable, 
about seventy words. Of these, the following important ones are obso- 
lete : Eemetta, leisure (from the same root as the adjective empty\ 
andget or andgit, sense^ meaning^ and its derivative, andgitfulli- 
cost; earfod, hard] biddan, though extant with the meaning of to 
command^ has become obsolete in the religious sense of to pray, where 
a Eomance word has supplanted it; gereccan, to express, render, or 
tell', healsian, to beseech or implore, though still used as a salutation 
in the religious and poetic dialect, and in the sense to call to, in that of 
navigation; hwilum, dat. pi. of the noun hwil, sometimes, obsolete 
in English, but, in the form whiles, extant in Scotch, and sometimes 
used in English, jocosety, in the form whilom \ our adverb ivhile or 
whilst is the same word with a diiFerent meaning; led en, speech, lan- 
guage, used by Chaucer but now lost; lichoman, body; maed, measure, 
obsolete as a noun, though mete, verb, is used in the solemn style, and 
mete, adjective, maybe allied, but this is doubtful; mod, mind, obsolete 
in this sense; ongitan, to understand, cognate with andget; rice, 
kingdom', the modem rich is fr-om the same root; rime, number, extant 
only in rhyme, mistakenly supposed to be from the Greek. The coinci- 
dence between rim and Greek apLdjxoQ is noticeable; mistlic, not 
cognate with mix, but a compound of mis and lie, un-like, and hence 
various', spell, language, obsolete in this and many other Anglo-Saxon 
meanings; sweotol^j/am, clear-. swi'Se, very, underfon, to under- 
take, assume, receive ', wealhstod, translator', wendan, the source of 
our to wend, but obsolete in the sense to turn ; witan, ^o blame, but 
the verb to twit is from this root, and derived either from the compound 
gedwitan, edwitan, a3twitan, or possibly from the gerundial to 
witenne, he is to witenne, he is to blame* 

It is true that some of the words I have mentioned were still in use 

^ The revisors of the English Bible of 1611 sacrificed a genuine Saxon-English 
idiom when, in Galatians ii. 11, they ^vrote : he was to be blamed, for: he was to 
blame. It is remarkable that even T^aidale did not dare to use this latter form, 
which, in his ignorance of Anglo-Saxon, he probably took for a vulgar colloquial- 
ism; but the truer philological instinct of Shakespeare did not scruple to 
retain the phrase. 

We have still several corresponding idioms. Franklin's * hats to sell ' is an 
instance, and : ' it is to seek ' has not been long disused. This form occurs also 
in Dutch, and it is curious that in the phrase : te zoek zijn, to be wanting^ to be 
to seek, the verb tezoeken has dropped the old ending en, as in English. 



LeCT. IX. EOMAUNT OF THE . ROSE 445 

in Chaucer's time, but much the greater proportion of tliem had been 
already irrecoverably lost, and hence, independently of the direct testi- 
mony of the monuments of early English letters, it is evident that 
the language must have become comparatively poor in all its higher 
departments. The vocabulary of the printed literature of the thirteenth 
century consists of about 8,000 words, of which not far from 7,000 are 
Anglo-Saxon. Eejecting words. of foreign origin, and what are obviously 
different forms of the same vocable, Bosworth's Anglo-Saxon Dictionary 
contains something less than twice the latter number. Neither Cole- 
ridge nor Bosworth can be supposed to be complete ; but if we assume 
that the one is as nearly so as the other, it would follow that one-half 
of the total Anglo-Saxon vocabulary had been lost before the year 1300. 
But as Coleridge's Glossarial Index is confined to printed books, and 
Bosworth embraces most known Anglo-Saxon manuscripts, his list is 
probably considerabl}^ more exhaustive than that of Coleridge. Be- 
tween the year 1300 and Chaucer's time, there was, doubtless, some 
further loss, and, upon the Avhole, I think it quite safe to say that at 
least one-fourth, and in all probability one-third, of the words com- 
posing the Anglo-Saxon tongue were utterly forgotten before Chaucer 
had ■written a line. It further appears, from the character of the par- 
ticular words which I have shown to have been lost, that the moral and 
intellectual, and the poetical nomenclatures were the portions of the 
vocabulary Avhich had suiFered most, and hence that a new supply of 
terms in these departments was an imperious necessity for all the pur- 
poses of literary culture. 

III. 

Chaucer's additions to the roman de la rose. 

Sandras, Etude sur Chaucer, p. 38, in speaking of Chaucer's 
translation of the Eoman de la Eose, observes : ' NuUe intention de 
donner au Eoman de la Eose une couleur nationale, nuUe intention de 
I'embellir ou de le corriger. Les differences qu'une comparaison scru- 
puleuse pent decouvrir sont insignifiantes, et ce qu'on a pris pour des 
interpolations se lit dans les manuscrits complets.' Eor one who has 
had no opportmiity of consulting ' les manuscrits complets,' it is difficult 
to judge how far they sustain this broad statement ; but the passage 
referred to in the text, which I think few readers would regard as 
* insignificant,' is not found either in Meon's edition of the text of De 
Lorris, or in the Dutch translation published by Kausler in Yol. II. of 
his Denkmaler Altniederlandischer Sprach.e und Litteratur. 



446 ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE Lect. IX. 

The entire passage in Meon's edition of tlie French text, vol. !• 
pp. 83, 84, stands thus : — 

2086. Vilonnie premierement, 

Ce dist Amors, veil et commant 

Que tu guerpisses sans reprendre, 

Se tu ne veulz vers moi mesprendre ; 
2090. Si maudi et escommenie 

Tous ceus qui aiment vilonnie. 

Vilonnie fait li vilains, 

Por ce n'est pas drois que ge I'ains; 

Viloins est fel et sans pitie, 
2095. Sans servise et sans amitie. 

Apres, te garde de retraire 

Chose des gens qui face a taire : 

N'est pas proesce de mesdire, e^c. &c. 
Chaucer's interpolation, it will be seen, is introduced between verses 
2095 and 2096. In the Dutch translation the passage is as follows:—. 

2006. Ic verbiede hu, alle dorperheide 

Te loechene eewelijc sender hale, 

Vp dat ghi mi wilt dienen wale. 

Ic ghebanne ende doe bekinnen : 

Dorperhede, alle die minne[n] 

Van hem te doene, verstaet mie ; 

Dorpre no dorpernie ne gaerdic nie, 

"Want si fel zijn ende sonder ghenade, 

In hem te hebben valschen rade ; 

Te niemene dracht hi minne 

So quaderande van zinne. 

Wacht hu mede, dat ghi niet vertrect 
^ Dinghen, die willen zijn bedect, 

Ende te heelne, dat te heelne staet ; 

En es gheene meesterie te seggen quaet, etc. etc. 
This translation is probably older than that of Chaucer, and is a fair 
one, though I cannot agree with Kausler, that it ' kann, als Ueber- 
tragtmg betrachtet, fiir meisterhaft gelten imd darf sich dem 
Chaucer'schen Versuche kiihn an die Seite stellen.' 

The omission of Avhat I have called an interpolation of Chaucer's, 
in both Meon's text and in this old Dutch version, is certainly prima- 
facie evidence that it is an addition by the English translator ; and we 
have a right to call upon those who affirm that his supposed amplifi- 



Lect. IX. ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE 447 

cations of his original are all found in tlie best manuscripts, to produce 
their texts of this passage. 

I take this occasion to call the attention of English scholars to the 
great interest of this Dutch translation, and, in fact, of the general 
Netherlandish literature of the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth 
centuries, which, it is hardly extravagant to say, is as little known to 
English and American scholars as that of China. I question whether 
there is any cognate source of instruction upon early English philology 
and etymology, which, if properly worked, would yield a richer harvest. 

The translation in question does not conform so closely to Meon's text 
as does that of Chaucer, but some passages, where Chaucer followed a 
different reading from that text, correspond pretty nearly with the 
Dutch. Thus, in this passage : — 

21. Within my twentie yeere of age. 
When that love taketh his courao-e 
Of younge follie, I wente soone 
To bed, as I was wont to .doone : 
And fast I slept, and in sleeping 
Me mette such a swevenmg. 
That Hked me wondrous wele. 
But in that sweven is never a dele ^ 

That it n' is afterward befaU, 
Eight as this dreame woU tell us all. 

Meon's text of the first five verses of the corresponding passage 
is: — 

Ou vintiesme an de mon aage, 

Ou point qu' Amors prend le paage 

Des Jones gens, couchiez estoie 

Une nuit, si cum je souloie, 

Et me dormoie moult forment, etc. etc. 

The Dutch ; — 

Te minen rechten xx jaren, ^ 

Alse minne neemt te waren 

Yan ionghen lieden haren cheins, 

So lach ic in een greet ghepeins 

Yp mijn bedde, ende wart beuaen 

Met eenen slape also zaen, etc. etc. 
Chaucer here uses soone in the sense of early in the evening — a 
meaning mentioned by Gill, as I have noted in my First Series, 
Lecture XXY. p. 580 — and the Dutch zaen, in the last line above 



448 A SERMON AGAINST MIEACLE-PLATS Lect. IX. 

quoted, corresponds nearly enongh to render it highly probable that 
both translators followed a text different from that of Meon, which does 
not contain the same idea. It is singular that the word courage or 
corage, in the second line quoted from Chaucer, should have been so 
generally misunderstood. It is, as I have pointed out in a note on the 
word courage in the American edition of the jEirst volume of Wedg- 
Avood's Etymological Dictionary, the LoAV-Latin coraagiumorcora- 
gium, prestationis species, a due or tribute, as, is clearly shown 
both by the French pa age and the Dutch cheins. 



IV. 

A SERMON AGAINST MIRACLE-PLAYS. 

Knowe Jee, Cristen men, that as Crist God and man is bothe weye, 
trewth, and lif, as seith the gospel of Jon, weje to the errynge, trewth 
to the imknowyng and doutyng, lif to the strynge to hevene and 
weryinge, so Crist dude nothinge to us but effectuely in weye of 
mercy, in treuthe of ritwesnes, and in lif of jildyng everlastynge joye 
for cure continuely morning and sorwynge in this valey of teeres. In 
myraclis therfore that Crist dude heere in erthe, outher in hymsilf 
outlier m hise seyntis, weren so efectuel and in ernest done, that to 
synful men that erren thei broujten for^yvenesse of synne, settynge 
hem in the weye of rijt beleve ; to doutouse men not stedefast, thei 
broujten in kunnying to betere plesen God and verry hope in God to 
been stedefast in hym ; and to the wery of the weye of God, for the 
grette penaunce and sufFraunce of the trybulacioun that men moten 
have therinne, thes broujten in love of brynnynge charite, to the 
whiche alle thing is lijt, and he to suiFere dethe, the whiche men 
most dreden, for the everlastynge lyf and joye that men moste loven 
and disiren, of the whiche thing verry hope puttith awey alle weri- 
nesse heere in the weye of God. Thanne sythen myraclis of Crist 
and of hyse seyntis weren thus effectuel, as by oure bileve we ben 
in certeyn, no man shulde usen in bourde and pleye the myraclis and 
werkis that Crist so ernystfuUy wroujte to oure helye ; for whoevere 
so doth, he errith in the byleve, reversith Crist, and scornyth God. 
He errith in the bileve, for in that he takith the most precious werkis 
of God in pley and bourde, and so takith his name in idil, and so 
mysusith oure bileve. A ! Lord ! sythen an erthely servaunt dar not 
taken in pley and in bourde that that her erthely lord takith in ernest, 
myche more we'shulden not maken oure pleye and bourde of tho 



Lect. IX. A SEEMON AGAINST MIRACLE-PLATS 449 

myraclis and werkis that God so ernestfully -svrou^t to us ; for sotliely 
wlian we so done, drede to synne is taken away, as a servaunt whan 
he bonrdith with his mayster leesith his drede to offendyn hym, 
namely, whanne he bonrdith with his mayster in th t nd that his 
mayster takith in ernest. 

An half frynde tariere to sonle helthe, redy to excnsen the yvil and 
hard of bileve, with Thomas of Ynde, seith, tliat he wil not leevyn the 
forseyd sentense of myraclis pleyinge, but and men schewen it hym bi 
holy writt opynly and by oure bileve. Wherfore that his half 
frenschip may be turnyd to the hoole, we preyen hym to beholden first 
in the seconde manndement of God that seith ' Thou schalt not take 
Goddis name in idil ; ' and sythen the mervelous werkis of God ben 
his name, as the gode werkis of craftesman been his name, than in this 
hest of God is forbeden to takun the mervelouse werkis of God in idil ; 
and how mowen thei be more takyn in idil than whanne thei ben 
niaad mennus japynge stikke, as when thei ben pleyid of japeris? 
And sythen ernestly God dyde hem to us, so take we hem of hym ; 
ellis fosothe we taken hem in veyn. Loke thanne, frend, §if thi byleve 
tellith that God dide his myraclis to us for we shulden pleyn hem, and 
yn trowe it seith to the, ' nay, but for thou schuldist more dredyn hym 
and lovyn hym,' and certis greet drede and gret effectuel loove suffrith 
no pleyinge nor japyng with hjmi. Thanne sythen myraclis pleyinge 
reversith the wille of God, and the ende for the which be wroujt 
myraclis to us, no doute but that myraclis pleyinge is verre takyng 
of Goddis name in ydil. And jif this suffisith not to thee, albeit that 
it shulde suflisen to an hethene man, that therefore wil not pley in the 
werkis of his mawmete, I preye thee rede enterly in the book of lyf 
that is Crist Jhesus, and if thou mayst fynden in hym that he evere 
exsaiunplide that men shulden pleye myraclis, but alwey the revers, 
and oure byleve cursith that ladden or lassen over that Crist exsaum- 
plide us to don. Hou thanne darst thou holden with myraclis pleyinge, 
sythen alle the werkis of Crist reversiden hem, and in none of his 
werkis thei ben groundyd? namely, sythen thou seyst thiselven that 
thou wolt nothing leven but that may be schewid of oure bileve, and 
sythen in thing that is acordyng with the flessh and to the likyng of it, 
as is myraclis pleyinge, thou wilt nothing don ajenus it, but jif it be 
schewid of oure bileve ; myche more in thing that is with the spirit, 
and alwey exsawmplid in the lif of Christ, and so fully writen in the 
booke of lif, as is levyng of myraclis pleyinge and of alle japyng, thou 
shuldest not holden a^enys it, but if it my§te ben schewid ajens the 

GG 



450 A SERMON AGAINST MIRACLE-PLATS Lect. IX. 

bileve, sytlien in al tliyng that is dowtous men shulden holden with 
the partye that is more favowrable to the spirit, and more exsawmpplid 
in the, lif of Christ ; and so as eche synne distruyith hymsilf, and eche 
falshed, so thi answere distruyith hymsilfe, and therby thou mayst 
wel witen that it is not trewe, but verre unkyndenesse ; for if thou 
haddist hadde a fadir that hadde sufFred a dispitouse deth to geten thee 
thyn heritage, and thou therafter woldest so hjtly bern it to make 
therof a pley to the and to alle the puple, no dowte but that alle gode 
men wolden demyen the unkynde, miche more God and alle his seyntis 
demyen alle tho cristen men unkynde that pleyen or favouren the pley 
of the deth or of the myracles of the most kynde fadir Crist, that dyede 
and wroujte myraclis to bryngen men to the evere-lastande heretage of 
hevene. 

• ••••• 

Therfore siche myraclis pleyinge now on dayes witnessitli thre 
thingis, first, is grete synne byforne the, second, it witnessith grete foly 
in the doinge, and the thridde greet venjaunse aftir ; for rijt as the 
chyldren of Israel, whan Moyses was in the hil bisily preyinge for hem, 
thei mystristyng to hym, honouriden a calf of gold, and afterward eetyn 
and drinken and risen to pleyn, and afterward weren sleyn of hem thre 
and twenty thowsend of men ; so thanne as this pleyinge wittnesside 
the synne of ther maumetrie beforn, and her mystryst to Moyses 
whanne thei shulde most han tristenede to hym, and after ther foly in 
ther pleyinge, and the thridde the venjaunse that cam after ; so this 
mjrraclis pleyinge is veiTe witnesse of mennus averice and coveytise 
byfore, that is maumetrie, as seith the apostele, for that that thei 
shulden spendyn upon the nedis of ther nejeboris, thei spenden upon 
the pleyis, and to peyen ther rente and ther dette thei wolen grucche, 
and to spende two so myche upon ther pley thei wolen nothing grucche. 
Also to gideren men togidere to bien the derre ther vetailis, and to 
stiren men to glotonye, and to pride and boost, thei pleyn thes myraclis, 
and also to han wherof to spenden on these myraclis, and to holde 
felawschipe of glotenye and lecherie in sich dayes of myraclis pleyinge, 
thei bisien hem beforn to more gredily bygilen ther nejbors, in byinge 
and in sellying ; and so this pleyinge of myraclis now on dayes is werre 
witnesse of hideous ceveytise, that is maumetrie. And ri^t as Moyses 
was that tyme in the hil most travelynge aboute the puple, so now is 
Crist in hevene with his fader most bisily preyinge for the puple ; and 
never the latere as the chlyndren (sic) of Israel diden that tyme that 
in hem was, in ther pleyinge of ther maumetrie, most folily to distrojen 
the grete travele of Moyses, so men now on dayees, after ther hidouse 



Lect. IX. A SEBMON AGAINST MIEACLE-PLATS 451 

maumetree of covetyse in tlier pleyinge of nijraclis, thei don that in 
hem is to distroje the ententive preyere of Crist in hevene for hem, 
and so ther myraclis pleyinge ^vitnessith ther most folye in ther doynge, 
and therfore as iinkyndely seiden to Aaron the children of Israel, 
Moyses beinge in the hil, ' we witen never how it is of Moyses, make 
lis therfore Goddis that gon biforn ns,' so nnkyndeli seyen men nowe 
on dayes, ' Crist doth now no myraclis for us, pley we therfore his 
olde,' addyng many lesynges therto so colowrably that the piiple gife as 
myche credense to hem as to the trwthe, and so thei forjeten to ben 
percever of the preyere of Crist, for the manmetrye that men don to 
sichc myraclis pleyinge ; maumetrye, I seye, for siche pleyinge men 
as myche honoryn or more than the word of God whanne it is prechid, 
and therefore blasfemely thei seyen, that siche pleyinge doith more 
good than the word of God wa,nne it is prechid to the puple. A I 
Lord'! what more blasfeme is ajeniis thee, than to seyen to don the 
byddyng, as is to prechen the word of God doth fer lasse good than to 
don that that is bodyn onely by man and not by God, as is myraclis 
pi eying ? Eit forsothe, as the lyknesse of myraclis we clepen myraclis. 
Tilt so the golden calfe the children of Israel clepiden it God ; in the 
whiche thei hadden mynde of the olde myraclis of God beforn, and for 
that licnesse thei worschipiden and preyseden, as thei worschipiden 
and presiden God in the dede of his myraclis to hem, and therefore 
thei diden expresse maumetrye. So sythen now on dales myche of the 
puple worschipith and preysith onely the licnesse of the myraclis of 
God, as myche as the worde of God in the prechours mowth by the 
whiche alle myraclis be don, no dowte that ne the puple doth more 
mawmetrie now in siche mja-aclis pleyinge than dide the puple of 
Israel that tyme in heryinge of the calf, in as myche as the lesynges 
and lustus of myraclis pleyinge that men worschipen in hem is more 
contrarious to God, and more acordynge with the devil, than was that 
golden calf that the puple worschipid. And therefore the maumetrye 
that tyme was but figure and licknesse of mennus maumetrye nowe, 
and therfore seith the apostel, asse thes thingis in figure fellen to hem, 
and therefore in siche myraclis pleyinge the devel is most plesid, as the 
dyvel is best payid to disceyve men in the licnesse of that thing in 
whiche by God man weren convertid biforhond, and in whiche the 
devel was tenyd byfornhond. Therfore oute of doute siche myraclis 
pleying pretith myche more venjaunce than dide the pleyinge of the 
chyldren of Israel, after the heriynge of the calf, as this pleyinge settith 
but japes grettere and more benfetes of God. . 



452 EECOEDS OF COMMON LIFE Lect. IX. 

V. 

RECORDS OF COMMON LIFE. 

I have somewliere seen it stated that Trevisa's manuscript of his 
translation of Glanvilla de Proprietatibns Eerum is still in existence. 
Philologically speaking, an edition of a work of this character would 
be more valuable than a chronicle or a poem of equal extent. The 
variety of subjects discussed by Glanville supposes a correspondingly 
extensive vocabulary, and a greater range of verbal combination than 
would be likely to occur in historical narrative, or in poetry, the 
dialect of which is more conventional than that of prose. It is to 
works on natural knowledge, and which connect themselves with prac-- 
tical life, that we are chiefly to look for information upon the actual 
speech of bygone ages, and especially upon historical etymology— the 
true story of the metamorj)hoses and migrations of words. 

Grammaticasters seek the history of language in written, and espe- 
cially in elegant literature; but, except in the fleeting dialect of 
pedants, linguistic change and progress begin in oral speech, and it is 
long before the pen takes up and records the forms and words which 
have become established in the living tongue. 

If you would know the present tendencies of English, go, as Luther 
did, to the market and the workshop ; you will there hear new words 
and combinations, which orators and poets will adopt in a future 
generation ; and in investigating the philological history of past ages, 
whose market-places are grass-grown, and the hum of whose industry 
is stilled, you must resort to those written memorials whose subjects 
most nearly approximate to the busy every-day life of their time. 

That literature which best preserves the unpremeditated, half-imcon- 
scious verbal expression of humanity is richest in true philological 
instruction, as it is in its revelations of the intellect and the heart of 
man : hence the great value and the profound interest of old familiar 
letters, journals, private records of all sorts. Precisely the disclosures 
we shrink most from making with respect to ourselves, and the out- 
spoken expressions we are shyest in using, attract us most in the life 
of distant ages. The most insignificant original memorial of the actual 
words of a living man has an imperishable worth to remote posterity. 
Eefined and sensitive persons destroy their family letters, and are re- 
luctant to record their names in the albums of paper and of stone with 
which all places of resort abound ; but, though we may not approve tho 
vanity which led a distinguished author to have his name carved on 



Lect. IX. OLD RECOKDS 453 

tlie summit of a pyramid he did not climb, I think no traveller looks 
on the record of a visit to one of the tombs of the Egyptian kings by 
an ancient Greek — who expresses his disappointment at finding nothing 
to admire, et p] rov Xidov — or at the inscription rudely cut on the legs 
of a gigantic statue at the entrance of the great rock-temple of Abou 
Simbel, to commemorate the halt of a detachment of Eoman soldiery 
sent up into Nubia in search of deserters — or even at the bare name 
which, three hundred years ago, the old herbalist, Belon, scratched 
with the point of his dagger on the smoky wall of a convent kitchen, 
now in ruins, in Arabia Petrasa — without feeling that he has added 
to his stores of knowledge both a historical fact and a ' form of words,' 
which will adhere to his memory when many an eloquent phrase shall 
hayfi vanished from it. 



LECTUEE X. 

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITEKATURE FROM THE 
BEGINNING OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY TO THE TIME 
OF CAXTON. 

When the political and mental agitations of the fourteenth 
century — which had been, if not occasioned, at least greatly 
increased by the antipapal schism — had once subsided, the in- 
tellectual activity of the age of Langlande and Wycliffe and 
Chaucer suddenly ceased, and was followed by a long period of 
repose, or perhaps I might rather say, of lethargy. The literary 
monuments we possess of the early part of the fifteenth century 
exhibit few traces of original power. In some of them, even 
the language seems to have rather retrograded than advanced ; 
nor did it manifest much substantial progress, until the new 
life, Avhich the invention of printing infused into literature, 
made itself felt in England. 

The English mind, brilliant as were its achievements in the 
era we have just passed over, was not yet so thoroughly roused 
and enlivened, that it was able to go on in the path of creative 
literature by its own inherent energies. It still required external 
impulse ; and it was only by the succession of electric shocks it 
received from the four greatest events in modern history, which 
so rapidly followed each other — the invention of printing, the 
discovery of the passage around the Ca,pe of Grood Hope, and of 
the American continent, and the Eeformation — that it was fully 
awakened and inspired with that undying energy which, for 
three hundred years, has filled the world with its renown. 



Lect. X. THOMAS OCCLEVE > 455 

The first important poetical writer of the fifteenth century, 
whose works have come do^vn to us, is Thomas Occleve, a 
lawyer, who is supposed to have flourished about the year 1420. 
Most of his works exist only in manuscript, and those that have 
been printed are not of a character to inspire a very lively 
desire for the publication of the remainder. They are princi- 
pally didactic, and in great part translations, the most important 
of them being a treatise on the Art of Grovernment, taken 
principally from a Latin work of Egidius, a Eoman writer of 
the thirteenth century. The diction of Occleve is modelled 
after that of Chaucer, of whom he professes to have been a 
pupil, but there are some grammatical differences, the most 
noticeable of them being the constant omission of the n final in 
the infinitive mood, and in the third person plural of the verbs. 
This, though not uncommon, was but of occasional, or at least 
of very irregular occurrence in the preceding century. 

I can find nothing better worthy of citation from this author 
than his lamentation upon Chaucer, which Warton gives from 
an unpublished manuscript : 

But w^eleawaye, so is myne herte wo, 

That the honour of English tonge is dede, 

Of which I wont Avas han counsel and rede ! 

O mayster dere, and fadir reverent, 

My mayster Chaucer, floui'e of eloquence, 

Mirrour of fructuous entendement, 

O universal fadir in science, 

Alas, that thou thine excellent prudence 

In thy bed mortel mightest not bequethe I 

What eyled Deth ? Alas wdiy would he sle the ! 

O Deth that didist nought harm singulere 

In slaughtre of him, but all the lond it smertith : 

But natheless, yet hastowe no powere 

His name to sle. His hie vertue astertith 

Unslayn from thee, which aye us hfely hertith 

With boke[s] of his ornate enditing, 

That is to all this lond enlumyning. 

The versification of this extract is interesting as showing that 



456 E FINAL Lect. X. 

the e final, which seems to have become silent soon after, was 
still pronounced in Occleve's time, at least in poetry, as it had 
been in Chaucer's; for bequeath^ spelt bequethe, is made to 
rhyme to sle the — 

In thy bed mortel mightest not heqiiethe ! 

What eyled Deth ? Alas why would he sle the ? 

The e final, which is mute in prose, is still counted in French 
versification, and not unfrequently requires a prosodical accent, 
though in actual reading of poetry, it is not much dwelt upon. 
That it was once normally articulated in prose, in both English 
and French, there can be no doubt. At what period it became 
silent in either, it is difficult to determine, partly because 
orthography seldom accurately represents orthoepy, an(J partly 
because the change, like other orthoepical and grammatical 
revolutions, came in gradually, and locally, so that while one 
province or writer in a given century may have dropped the e, 
another may have retained it many years later. The cause of 
the loss of this articulation is the same in both languages, 
namely, the tendency of both to discard inflectional syllables — 
a tendency much aggravated in English by the confusion intro- 
duced into its grammar through a mixture of unrelated tongues 
discordant in their accidences. 

Changes of this sort are not received in literature until they 
have been long established in speech, and the fact, that in 
French poetry the e final still counts as a syllable, while it has 
been null in English verse for certainly three centuries, would 
seem to imply that it continued to be colloquially pronounced 
in France much longer than in England. 

Contemporaneously with Occleve lived James I. of Scotland, 
who was illegally seized, in his early childhood,* by Henry IV, 

* There is a good deal of discrepancy among the authorities as to the date of 
King James's capture — or rather as to his age at the time — and the duration of 
his imprisonment. In the third and fifth stanzas of the second canto of the 
King's Quair, the king himself says that he was taken prisoner at the age of 



tECT. X. " JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND 457 

of England in the year 1405, and kept for nearly twenty years 
a prisoner. His captor caused him to be well educated, and 
besides several pieces written, as it is said, unequivocally in the 
Scottish dialect — the criticism of which does not come within 
the plan of this course — he v/rote, in English, as it seems, a 
poem in about fourteen hundred lines, called the King's Quair, 
or book. This is a eulogistic rhapsody on the Lady Jane Beau- 
three, iind iu the sixth stanza of tlie same canto, lie states that he had already 
been imprisoned eighteen years, when he first saw his mistress ; — 

HI. 

Not far passit the state of innocence 

But nere about the nowmer of zeiris thre, 
Were it causit throu lierinly influence 

Of Goddis will, or other casualtee. 
Can I not say, hot out of my contree. 

By thair avise y' had of me the cure 

Be see to pas, tuke I my aventure. 

V. 

Upon the wevis weltring to and fro, 
So infortunate was we that fremyt day. 

That maugre plainly quethir v/e wold or no, 
W strong hand by forse schortly to say, 

Of inymyis taken and led away, 
We weren all, and bro' in thaire contree, 
Portune it schupe non othir wayis to be. 

VI. 

Quhare as in strayte ward, and in strong prison, 

So fere forth of mj lyf the hevy lyne, 
W*out confort in sorowe, abandoune 

The secund sistere, lulcit hath to tuyne, 
"Neve, by the space of zeris tvace nyne. 

Till Jupiter his merci list advert, 

And send confort in relesche of my smert. 

In Holinshed's History of Scotland, reprint of 1808, vol. vi, p, 407, it is said: 
'taken he was in the ninth yeare of his age, the 33 (sic) day of March, in the 
yeare of our incarnacion 1406, and was kept in captivitie of the Englishmen by 
the space of eighteene yeares.' On page 426, the king is said to have been 
murdered on the 21 of February 1436, ' in the 44 y^ere of his age.' If King 
James was forty-three years old in 1436, he must have been more than eight in 
1406, and upon the whole I think it safer to follow King James's own chronology 
than that of historical compilers. 



458 JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND Lect. X. 

fort, whom King James afterwards married ; and though its 
subject and purpose did not give room for much fertility of 
invention, it is full of delicacy, grace and feeling, smooth and 
artistic in versification, and, in general poetic merit, superior to 
any other English verse of the fifteenth or even the first half of 
the sixteenth century. 

The dialect is remarkable both for the occasional introduction 
of Scandinavian words and forms — reminiscences, possibly, of 
the author's childhood, which was used to a dialect much modified 
by Northern influences — and especially for its freedom from all 
French terms and idioms which had not been fairly naturalized 
in English. The proportion of Eomance words in the King's 
Quair is scarcely greater than in the works of Chaucer or of Grower, 
and, as in those authors, we find that most of them are intro- 
duced rather for the sake of rhyme and metre, than for any 
Buperior adaptedness to poetical expression. His description of 
the lady of whom he was enamoured is worth quoting at length : 

And therew* keft I doun myn eye ageyne, 

Quhare as I faw walkyng under the Toure, 
Full fecvetely, new cumyn hir to pleyne, 

The fairell or the frefchefl: zoung fioure 
That ever I fawe, metho*, before that houre, 

For quhich fodayne abate, anon aftert, 

The blude of all my body to my hert. 

And though I flood abaifit tho a lyte, • 

No wonder, was ; for quhy ? my wittis all 
Were fo ouercome w* plefance and delyte, 

Only through latting of myn eyen fall, 
That fudaynly my hert become hir thrall, 

For ever of fi^ee wyll, for of manace 

There was no takyn in hir fuete face. 

And in my hede I drew ry* haflily, 

And eft fones I lent it out ageyne, 
And faw hir walk that verray womanly, 

With no wight mo, hot only women tueyne, 
Than gan I fludy in myfelf and feyne, 

Ah ! fuete are ze a warldly creature, 

Or hevingly thing in likeneffe of natiure? 



Lect. X. JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND 459 

Or ar ze god Cupidis owin princelTe ? 

And cumj'-n are to loufe me 6nt of band, 
Or are ze veray Nature the goddefTe, 

Tliat Lave depayntit w* zour hevinly hand, 
This gardyn full of flouris, as they Hand ? 

Quhat fall I think, allace ! quhat reverence 

Sail I meller to zour excellence ? 
Giff ze a goddelTe be, and y* ze like 

To do me payne, I may it not aftert ; 
Giff ze be warldly wight, y*^ dooth me fike, 

Quhy left God mak zou fo my dereft hert. 
To do a fely prifoner thus fmert. 

That lufis zou all, and wote of no* but wo. 

And, therefore, merci fuete ! fen it is fo. 
Quhen I a lytill thrawe had maid my mone, 

Bewailing myn infortune and my chance, 
Unknawin how or quhat was beft to done, 

So ferre I fallying into lufis dance, 
That fodeynly my wit, my contenance, 

My hert, my will, my nature, and my mynd, 

Was changit clene ry' in ane other kind. 
Of hir array the form gif I fal write. 

Toward her gbldin haire, and rich atyre, 
In fretwife couchit w* perils quhite. 

And grete balas lemyng as the fyre, 
W* mony ane emerant and faire faphire, 

And on hir hede a chaplet frefch of hewe, 

Of plumys partit rede, and quhite, and blewe 
Full of quaking fpangis bry* as gold, 

Forgit of fchap like to the amorettis, 
So new, fo frefch, fo pleafant to behold. 

The plumys eke like to the iloure jonettis, 
And other of fchap, like to the floure jonettis " 

And, above all this, there was, wele I wote. 

Beautee eneuch to mak a world to dote. 
About hir neck, quhite as the fyre amaille, 

A gudelie cheyne of fmall orfeverye, 
Quhare by there hang a ruby, w*out faille 

Like to ane hert fchapin verily, 
That, as a Iperk of lowe fo wantonly 

Semyt birnyng upon hir quhite throte, 

Now gif there was gud pertye, God it wote. 



460 JAMES I. OP SCOTLAND Lect, X. 

And for to walk tliat frefche Mayes morowe, 

Ane linke fhe had upon her tiffeAV quhite, 
That gudeliare had not bene fene to forowe, 

As I fuppofe, and girt fche was alyte ; 
Thus halflyng lowfe for hafte, to fuich delyte, 

It was to fee her zouth in gudelihed, 

That for rudenes to fpeke thereof I drede. 
In hir was zonth, beautee, w* humble aport, • 

Bountee, richeffe, and womanly faiture, 
God better wote than my pen can report, 

Wifdome, largefTe eftate, and conyng fure 
In every point, fo guydit hir mefure, 

In word, in dede, in fchap, in contenance, 

That nature my* no more hir childe auance. 
Throw quhich anon I knew and underftude 

Wele y* fche was a warldly creature, 
On quhom to reft myn eye, fo mich gude 

It did my woful hert, I zow affure 
That it was to me joye w*out mefure. 

And, at the laft, my luke unto the hevin 

I threvre furthwith, and faid thir verfis fevin : 
O Venus clere ! of goddis ftellifyit, 

To quhom I zelde homage and facrifife, 
Fro this day forth zour grace be magnifyit, 

That me relTauit have in fach wife. 
To lyve under zour law and fo feruife ; 

Now help me furth, and for zour merci lede 

My hert to reft, y* deis nere for drede. 
Quhen I w* gude entent this orifon 

Thus endit had, I ftynt a lytill ftound, 
And eft myn eye full pitoufly adoun 

I keft, behalding unto hir lytill hound, 
That w* his bellis playit on the ground. 

Than wold I fay, and figh therew* a lyte, 

Ah ! wele were him y* now Avere in thy plyte I 
An othir quhile the lytill nyghtingale. 

That fat upon the twiggis, wold I chide. 
And fay ry* thus, Quhare are thy notis fmale, 

That thou of love has fong this morowe tyde ? 
Seis thou not hir y* fittis the befyde ? 

Ffoi- Venus' fake, the blisfuU goddeffe clere, 

Sing on agaiie, and iP^vk my Lady chcre. 



Lect. X. JAMBS I. OF SCOTLAND 461 

And eke I pray, foi all the paynes grete, 

That, for the love of Proigne, thy filler der^ 

Thou fufFerit quhilom, quhen thy brellis wete 
Were with the teres of thyne eyen clere, 

All bludy ronne y* pitee was to here, 
The crueltee of that unkny^ly dede, 
Quhare was fro the bereft thy maidenhede. 

Lift Tip thyne hert, and fing w* gude entent, 
And in thy notis fliete the trefon telle, 

That to thy filler trewe and innocent. 
Was kythit by hir hnfband falfe and fell, 

Ffor qnhois gilt, as it is worthy Avell, 
Chide thir hufbandis yt are falfe, I fay, 
And bid them mend in the XX deuil way. 

lytill wreich, allace ! maiil thou not fe 

Quho comy th zond ? Is it now time to wrmg ? 
Quhat fory tho* is fallin upon the ? 

Opyn thy throte ; hafiow no left to ling ? 
Allace ! fen thou of refon had felyng, 

Now, fwete bird lay ones to me pepe, 

I dee for wo ; me think thou gynis llepe. 
Haftow no mynde of lufe ? quhare is thy make ? 

Or artow feke, or fmyt av* jeloufye ? 
Or is fche dede, or hath fche the forfake ? 

Quhat is the caufe of thy melancolye, 
That thou no more lift maken melodye ? 

Sluggart, for fchame ! lo here thy golden houro 

That worth were hale all thy lyvis laboure. 
Gif thou fuld fmg wele ever in thy lyve. 

Here is, in fay, the time, and eke the Ipace : 
Quhat woftow then ? Sum bird may cum and ftryve 

In fong w* the, the maiftry to purchace. 
Suld thou than celTe, it were great fchame allace, 

And here to wyn gree happily for ever ; 

Here is the tyme to fyng, or ellis never, 

1 tho* eke thus gif I my handis clap, 

Or gif I caft, than will fche flee away ; 
And, gif I hald my pes, than will fche nap ; 

And gif I crye, fche wate not quhat I fay : 
Thus quhat is beft, wate I not be this day, 

Bot blawe wynd, blawe, and do the leuis fchake, 

That %m tuig may wag, and make hir to wake. 



462 JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND LecT. X. 

Witli that anon ry* fclie toke up a fang, 

Quhare com anon mo birdis and alight ; 
Bot than to here the mirth was tham amang, 

Ouer that to fee the fuete ficht 
Of hyr ymage, my Ipirit was fo light, 

Metho* I flawe for joye w*out arefl, 

So were my wittis bound in all to fell. 
And to the nottis of the philomene, 

Quhilkis fche fang the ditee there I maid 
Dired to hir y* was my hertis quene, 

Withoutin qnhom no fongis may be glade, 
And to that fan6l Avalking in the fchade, 

My bedis thus Avith humble hert entere, 

Deoutly I faid on this manere. 
Quhen fall zour merci rew upon zour man, 

Quhois feruice is yet uncouth unto zow, 
Sen quhen ze go, there is not ellis than, 

Bot hert quhere as the body may not throu 
Folow thy hevin, quho fuld be glad bot thou, 

That fuch a gyde to folow has undertake, 

Were it throu hell, the way thou no* forfake. 
And, efter this, the birdis everichone 

Tuke up ane other fang full loud and clere. 
And w* a voce faid, Well is vs begone. 

That with our makis are togider here ; 
We proyne and play w^out dout and dangere, 

All clothit in a foyte full fi-efch and newe, 

In lufHs fervice befy, glad, and trewe. 
And ze frefch May, ay mercifull to bridis, 

Now welcum be, ze floure of monethis all, 
Ffor not onely zour grace upon us bydis, 

Bot all the warld to witnes this we call. 
That flrowit hath fo plainly over all, 

W* new frefch fuete and tender grene. 

Our lyf, our lull, our governoure, our quene. 
This was their fang, as femyt me full heye, 

W* full mony uncouth fwete note and fchill, 
And therew'^ all that faire vpward hir eye 

Wold call: amang, as it was Goddis will, 
Quhare I might fe, Handing alone full flill. 

The faire faiture y* nature, for maiftrye, 

In hir vifige Avro* had full lufingly. 



Lect. X. JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND 463 

And, quhen fclie walliit, liad a lytill tlirawe 

Under the fuete grene bewis bent, 
Hir faire frefcli face, as qiihite as any fnawe, 

Sclie turnyt has, and furth her wayis went ; 
Bot tho began myn axis and turment, 

To fene hir part, and folowe I na my*, 

Metho* the day was turnyt into ny*. 

The dialect of this poem is English in almost everythiDg but 
the spelling. Only a single old manuscript of the King's Quair 
exists, and I do not know that there is any reason to suppose it 
to be the original, or even an authentic copy. The occasional 
halting of the metre, which is in general smooth, is strong 
evidence of some corruption of the text; and it may be 
considered impossible that a young man, educated in England 
from the age of three or even of eight or nine years, should 
have employed the orthography of the manuscript in ques- 
tion. It is, therefore, either a transcript made by a scribe not 
well versed in the English dialect, or it has been nationalized 
by some Caledonian, who 'loved Scotland better than the 
truth.' 

King James acknowledged Gower and Chaucer as his masters, 
but he certainly did not learn from them this spelling of the 
concluding stanza of the poem, in which he confesses his 
obligations to them : — 

Vnto impnis of my maisteris dere, 

Gowere and Chaucere, that on the steppis satt 

Of rhethorike, quhill thai were ly vand here, 
Superlatiue as poetis laureate, 

In moralitee and eloquence ornate, 
I recommend my buk in lynis seven, 
And eke thair saulis vnto the bhsse of hevin. 

Apart from the internal evidence of the poem itself, we have 
abundant other proof that its dialect is not that of the Scottish 
nation in the first third of the fifteenth century. Holinshed 
has preserved for us a piece of testimony on this subject, 
directly connected with the prince himself, in, a letter written 



464. LTDGATE Lect. X. 

by King Eobert to King Henry IV., in anticipation of the 
possibility of the young prince's capture while trying to ' force 
the blockade/ and proceed to France. The diction of this 
epistle is in the same pedantic strain which characterised the 
dialect of many Scotch writers of the following century. Fully 
twenty-five per cent, of the words are French or Latin, and 
among them are such expressions as : ' thair empire is caduke 
and fragill,' ^ quhan princes ar roborat be amitee of other, &c.,' 
*to obtemper to thir owr desires,' and the like. In short, the 
whole style of the letter is as remote as possible from the sim- 
plicity and naturalness of expression that marked the English 
of that period, and of which King James's poem constitutes so 
good a specimen. 

A little later, or about the year 1430, flourished Lydgate, a 
poet of moderate merits but to whom the popularity of his 
principal subjects, the Fall of Princes, taken from Boccaccio, 
the Destruction of Troy, and the Siege of Thebes — all founded 
on middle-age adaptations and amplifications of classical narra- 
tives — gave a more general circulation than the works of any 
other writer of that century obtained. 

Lydgate's poems are extremely numerous, and mostly still 
inedited. They embrace a vast variety of subjects, including 
some not precisely fit to be treated by an ecclesiastic. The un- 
published works, so far as can be judged by the scanty extracts 
in Warton and other critical writers, are of at least equal merit 
with those which have been printed. It is much to be wished 
that a selection of them might be edited, because, from their 
great variety of topics, metre and prevalent tone, they would, 
no doubt, furnish important contributions to the history of 
English philology. Lydgate was one of the few Englishmen of 
his time who enjoyed the benefit of both an English education 
and a Continental literary training. He not only visited Italy, 
as did hundreds of the priesthood, for professional purposes, but 
carefully studied and mastered the languages and secular litera- 
ture of that country and of France; and he is said to have 
opeiied a school at his monastery, after his return, for the 



LeCT. X. MINOR POETKJ OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY 465 

instruction of young gentlemen in the arts of poetry and rhetoric, 
and in all that is called belles-lettres learning. 

The Story of Thebes was written as a sort of continuation of 
the Canterbury Tales, and is preceded by a prologue, in which 
the author sa^^s he fell accidentally into company with Chaucer's 
pilgrims, and was invited to join them, and contribute a tale for 
the entertainment of the party. The dialect of this composition 
is evidently an imitation of the style and diction of Chaucer ; 
and hence it is more antiquated than that of Lyd-gate's other 
works, many of which are even more modern, both in vocabulary 
and in idiom, than the diction of Spenser, who lived a century 
and a half later. 

The Fall of Troy is a compilation from a great variety of 
sources, strung together not without art, and embellished with 
many apparently original inventions of Lydgate's own. It pos- 
sesses an interest of an archssological as well as of a philological 
character, for it brings the action of the personages, their cos- 
tumes, their architecture and their habits to those of Lydgate's 
time, and consequently adds something to our knowledge of the 
English social life of the fifteenth century. 

The versification of Lydgate is generally very smooth, but it 
is sometimes difficult to resolve it into prosodical feet, on account 
of the irregularity in the pronunciation of the e final, which was 
now fluctuating, sometimes articulated and sometimes silent. 
Upon what rule the pronunciation rested, or whether the poet 
arbitrarily articulated or suppressed it, as the convenience of 
metre dictated, I am unable to say ; but it is evident that in his 
time there was a rapidly increasing inclination to drop it in 
speech, though it was still retained in the orthography of a 
great number of words which have now lost it. 

The minor poetry of the fifteenth century is in general of 
little interest or value, though there are some devotional pieces 
not devoid of merit in versification, if wanting in originality of 
thought. I give, as a specimen, a poem to the Virgin, from 
Wright and Halliwell's Eeliquise Antiquse, vol. ii. pp. 212, 213 : 

H H 



466 MINOR POEMS OP FIFTEENTH CENTUEY LuCT. X. 

Mary moder, wel thow be ! 

Mary mayden, thynk on me ; 

Maydyn and moder was never non 

To the, lady, but tliou allon. 

Swete Mary, mayden clene, 

Sbilde me Iro all shame and tene ; 

And out of syn, lady, shilde thou me, 

And out of det, for charite. 

Lady, for thi joyes fjvej 

Gyf me grace in this life 

To know and kepe over all thyng 

Cristyn feath and Goddis biddyng, 

And truly wynne all that is nede 

To me and myne, bothe cloth and fede. 

Helpe me, lady, and alle myne, 

Shilde me, lady, fro hel pyne. 

Shilde me, lady, fro vilany, 

And fro alle wycked cumpany. 

Shilde me, lady, fro evel shame, 

And from all wycldd fame. 

Swete Mary, mayden mylde, 

Fro the fende thou me shilde, 

That the fende me not dere ; 

Swete lady, thou me Avere 

Bothe be day and be nygt ; 

Helpe me, lady, with alle thi myjt, 

For my frendis, lady, I pray the, 

That thei may saved be 

To ther soulis and ther life, 

Lady, for thi joyes fyve. 

For myn enimys I pray also, 

That thei may here so do. 

That thei nor I in wrath dye ; 

Swete lady, I the pray, 

And thei that be in dedly synne, 

Let hem never dye therin ; 

But swete lady, thou hem rede 

For to amende ther my seede. 

Swete lady, for me thou pray to hevyn kyng. 

To graunt me howsill, Christe, and gode endjii^. 

Jhesu, for thi holy grace. 

In heven blisse to have a place j 



Lect. X. MINOR POEMS OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY 467 

Lady as I trust in the, 

These prayers that thou graunt me ; 

And I shall, lady, her belyve 

Grete the with avys fyve, 

A pater noster and a crede, 

To helpe me, lady, at my nede. 

Swete lady, full of wynne. 

Full of grace and gode within, 

As thou art flour of alle thi kynne, 

Do my synnes for to blynne, 

And kepe me out of dedly synne, . 

That I be never takyn therin. 

T add, from the same collection, a short poem on grammatical 
rales, written in a dialect which shows that the author, however 
good a Latinist he may have been, had very vague notions of 
English accidence and orthography : — 

I\Iy lefe chyld, I kownsel ye 

To furme thi vj. tens, thou awyse ye; 

And have mynd of thi clensoune, 

Both of nowne and of prono^^aie, 

And ilk case in plurele, 

How thai sal end, awyse the wele; 

And thi participyls forgete thou nowth, 

And thi comparysons be yn thi thowth ; 

Thynk of the revele of the relatyfe, 

And then schalle thou the bettyr thrjrfe ; 

Lat never interest downe falle, 

Nor penitet with hys felows alle ; 

And how this Englis schalle cum in, 

Wyt tanto and quanto in a Latyn, 

And how this Enghs schalle be chawngede, 

Wyt verbis newtjrrs qwen thai are hawede ; 

And howe a verbe schalle be furmede, 

Take gode hede that thou be not stunnede; 

The ablatyfe case thou hafe in mynd, 

That he be saved in hys kynd ; 

Take gode hede qwat he wylle do. 

And how a nowne substantyfe, 

W}41e corde with a verbe and a relatyfe ; 

Posculoj poscoj peto, 

B H 2 



468 MINOR POEMS OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY LeCT. X. 

And yf tHou wylle be a grammarion, 
Owne thi fyngers to construccjon, 
The infenytyfe mode alle thorowth, 
Wyt his suppyns es mykylle wroth ; 
And thynk of propur nownnys, 
Both of kastels and of townnys ; 
And when oportet cums in plas, 
Thou knawys miserere has no gras. 

The political poetry of this period, as a contribution to 
contemporaneous history, has a value quite independent of its 
merits, or rather demerits, in a literary point of view. The 
rhymed chronicles are every way worthless ; but some of the 
controversial and polemic political verse has much higher 
claims. The Libel of English Policy, a poem of some fifteen 
hundred lines, written apparently in the year 1436, is among 
the most important productions of its kind, and is remarkable 
for far-sighted views of public policy, and the knowledge it 
displays of the material resources and commercial interests of 
England. The prologue deserves quoting at length : — 

THE LIBEL OF ENGLISH POLICY. 

Here heginneth the prologe of the processe of the Libelle of Enghjshe 
Polycye^ exhortynge alle Englande to Icepe the see enviroun, and 
namelye the narowe see, sheiuynge whate profete commeth thereof, 
and also worshype and salvacioun to Englande and to alle Englyshe 
menne. 

The trewe processe of Englysh poly eye, 

Of utterwarde to kepe thys regne in rest 
Of oure England, that no man may denye, 
Nere say of soth but one of the best 
Is thys, that who seith southe, northe, est, and west^ 
Cheryshe merchandyse, kepe thamyralte, 
That we bee maysteres of the naroAve see. 
Ffor Sigesmonde the grete emperoure, 

Whyche yet regneth, whan he Avas in this londe 
Wy th kynge Herry the y^^, prince of honoure, 
Here moche glorye as hym thought he founde; 
A myghty londe, Avhyche hadde take on honde 
To werre in Ffraunce and make mortalite, 
And evere welle kept rounde aboute the see. 



Lect. X. MINOR POEMS OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY 469 

And to the kynge thus lie seyde, * My brotliere,' * 

"Whan he pei'ceyved too townes Calys and Dovere, 

* Of alle yonre townes to chese of one and othere, 

* To kepe the see and sone to come overe 

' To werre ollght^Yardes and youre regne to recovere, 

* Kepe these too townes, sire, and youre mageste, 

* As youre tweyne eyne to kepe the narowe see.' 

Ffor if this see be kepte in tyme of werre, 

Who cane here passe withought daimgere and woo ? 

Who may eschape, who may myschef dyfFerre ? 
What marchaundye may for by be agoo ? 
Ffor nedes hem muste take truse every ffoo, 

Fflaundres, and Spa3^ne, and othere, trust to me,' 

Or ellis hyndered alle for thys narowe see. 

Therfore I caste me by a lytele wrytinge 
To shewe att eye thys conclusione, 

Ffor concyens and for myne acquytynge 
Ayenst God and ageyne abusyon. 
And cowardyse and to oure enmyes confusione ; 

Ffor iiij. thynges our noble sheueth to me, 

Kyng, shype and, swerde, and pouer of the see. 

Where bene oure shippes ? where bene oure swerdes become ? 

Owre enmyes bid for the shippe sette a shepe. 
Alias ! oure reule halteth, hit is benome ; 

Who dare weel say that lordeshyppe shulde take kepe ? 

I wolle asaye, thoughe mjne hert gy nne to wepe, 
To do thys werke, yf we wole ever the, 
Ffor verry shame, to kepe aboute the see. 

Shalle any prynce, what so be hys name, 
Wheche hathe nobles moche lyche oures, 

Be lorde of see, and Fflemmyngis to oure blame 
Stoppe us, take us, and so make fade the floures 
Of Englysshe state, and disteyne oui-e honnoures ? 

Ffor cowardyse, alias ! hit shulde so be ; 

Therfore I gynne to wryte now of the see. 

After the prologue, follow chapters on the trade between the 
Continental states, which is conducted by way of the British 
channel, the object being to show that if England controls that 



470 MINOE POEMS OF FIFTEENTH CENTDEY Lect. X. 

strait by her maritime towns on both coasts, and her fleets, 
she is virtually the mistress of the commerce of Western 
Europe. These chapters furnish a good deal of information on 
the productive industry, the imports and exports, and all the 
financial interests of the countries bounded by the Atlantic and 
the Baltic seas, as well as of the most important Mediterranean 
ports, which latter seem to have furnished England with many 
of the lighter and more costly articles of trade and luxury, 
called by the writer, ' commodites and nycetees : ' — 

The grete galees of Venees and Fflorence 

Be wel ladene wyth tliynges of complacence, 

Alle spicerye and of grocers ware, 

Wyth swete wynes, alle manere of chaffare, 

Apes, and japes, and marmnsettes taylede, 

Nifles, trifles, that litelle have availede, 

And thynges wyth whiche they fetely blere cure eye, 

Wyth thynges not enduryng that we bye ; 

Ffor moche of tliys chaffare that is wastable 

Mighte be forborne for dere and dyssevable. 

And that I wene, as for infirmitees, 

In oure Englonde is suche comoditees, 

Wythowten helpe of any othere londe, 

Whych by wytte and practike betlie ifounde, 

That alle humors myght be voyded sure ; 

Whych that we gledre wyth oure Englysh cure, 

That wee shulde have no nede to skamonye, 

Turbit, euforbe, correcte, diagredie, 

Eubarde, sene, and jet they bene to nedefuUe ; 

But I knowe tliynges also spedefuUe, 

That growene here, as these thynges seyde ; 

Lett of this matere no mane be dysmayde, 

But that a man may voyde infirmytee 

Wy thoute degrees fet fro beyonde the see. 

And yett there shulde excepte be ony thynge, 

It were but sugre, truste to my seyinge. 

He that trustith not to my seyinge and sentence, 

Lett hym better serche experience. 

In this mater I wole not ferthere prese. 

Who so not beleveth, let hym leve and sease. 



Lect. X. MINOR POEMS OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY 471 

Thus these galeise for this lykynge ware, 

And etynge ware, here hens oure beste chaffare, 

Clothe, wolle, and tynne, whiche. as I seyde beforne, 

Oute of this londe werste myghte be forborne. 

Ffor eche other londe of necessite 

Have grete nede to by some of the thre ; 

And wee resseyve of hem into this cooste 

Ware and chaffare that lyghtlye wol be loste. 

And wolde Jhesu that oure lordis wolde 

Considre this wel, both yonge and olde ; 

Namelye olde, that have experience. 

That myghte the yonge exorten to prudence. 

What harme, what hurt, and Avhat hinderaunce 

Is done to us imto youre grete grevaunce, 

Of suche londes and of suche nacions ? 

As experte men knowe by probacions ; 

By wretynge as discured oure counsayles, 

And false coloure alwey the countertayles 

Of oure enmyes, that do the us hinderinge 

Unto our goodes, oure realme, and to the kynge ; 

As wysse men have shewed welle at eye, 

And alle this is colowred by marchaundiye. 

This chapter is followed by * an ensampelle of deseytte,' whicli 
furnishes some curious information on modes and rates of 
exchange and usury : — 

Also they bere the golde owte of thys londe. 
And souketh the thryfte awey oute of oure honde, 
As the waffore soukethe honeye fro the bee, 
So mynuceth oure commodite. 
Now wolle ye here how they in Cotteswolde 
Were wonte to borowe, or they schulde be solde, 
Here wolle gode, as for yere and yere, 
Of clothe and tynne they did in lych manere, 
And in her galeys schyppe this marchaundye ? 
Than sone at Venice of them men wol it bye, 
Then utterne there the chaffare be the payse. 
And lyghtly als ther they make her reys. 
And whan tho gode bene at Venice solde. 
Than to carrye her chaunge they ben fulle bolde 



472 PKOSE OP FIFTEENTH CENTURY Lect. X» 

Into Flaundres, whan tliei this money have, 

They wyll it profre ther sotelte to save* 

To Englysshe marchaundis to yeve it oute by eschaunge, 

To be paid agayn, thei make not straunge, 

Here in Englonde, semynge for the better, 

At the resey vinge and syght of the lettir. 

By iiij. pens lesse in the noble rounde, 

That is xij. pens in the golden pounde. 

And yf we wolle have of paymente, 

A ftiUe monythe than moste hym nedes assente, 

To viij. pens losse, that is shellyngis tAveyne, 

In the Englysshe pound, as eftesones ageyne 

Ffor ij. monthes xij. pens must be paye, 

In the Englysshe pounde, what is that to seye, 

But iij. shy Hingis, so that in pounde felle 

Efor hurte and harme harde is wyth hem to delle. 

And whenne Englysshe marchaundys have contente 

This eschaunge in Englonde of assente, 

That these seyde Veneciance have in wone. 

And Eiorentynes, to bere here golde sone 

Overe the see into Flaundres ageyne. 

wAjid thus they lyve in Flaundres, sothe to sayne, 

And in London, wyth siiclie clievesaunce 

That men calle usure, to oure losse and hinderaunce. 

The wide range of vocabulary required for the lists of com- 
modities and for the other commercial topics discussed in this 
poem, invests it with a good deal of philological interest, but it 
offers nothing new in point of syntax or inflection. 

The prose writers of the first three quarters of the fifteenth 
century are not very numerous, nor, with an exception or two, 
important. There are several chroniclers of this period who 
have little historical merit, and it may be remarked as a rule 
almost without exception, that the secular prose of the fifteenth 
century is greatly inferior to the poetry, both in literary skill 
and in philological interest. The time had not yet come for the 
cultivation of the diction of prose. The freedom of speech, 
which had grown up in the decrepitude of Edward III. and 
the imbecility of his successor, the weak and unfortunate 



Lect. X. BISHOP PECOCK 473 

Eichard II., was gone. Liberty of thought was restrained in too 
many ways, tyrannized over by too many despotisms, to be 
allowed much range of exercise. The realities of life, political, 
social, ecclesiastical, could not safely be discussed, and it was 
only the imaginative, unsubstantial world of poetry, in which 
the English mind was allowed a little room for expansion. 

But, in spite of every effort to quench it, the spark Y^^hich 
Wycliffe had kindled still faintly glowed in the dreary ash-heap of 
the Church itself; and the works of Pecock afford a gratifying 
proof that the mantle of the reformer had fallen on worthy 
shoulders, though he who bore it was so little able to comprehend 
the scope and logical consequences of the principles on which 
he acted, that he knew not even in what direction he was 
marching. 

The principal work of Pecock is called The Repressor of 
over-much Blaming of the Clerg}^ It was written about the 
year 1450, and a very good edition of it has just been published 
in the series entitled Chronicles and Memorials of Grreat Britain 
and Ireland in the Middle Ages. It is, as its title indicates, a 
defence of many of the doctrines held by the Church of Rome 
against the attacks of the Lollardists, or followers of Wycliffe, 
and other reformers. But while Pecock assailed the heretical 
opinions of the Lollardists, and sustained, with moderation, the 
supremacy of the Palpal See, the adoration of images and the 
like, he was at the same time unconsciously undermining the 
position on which he stood, by admitting that general councils 
were not infallible, that the Scriptm^es were the true rule of 
faith, and that religious dogmas ought to be supported by 
argument, and not by the bare decree of an unreasoning- 
authority. Clearer-sighted men than himself saw whither 
Pecock was drifting, and that his well-meant defence of the 
Church was, in reality, a formidable attack upon the radical 
principles of its organisation and the groundwork of its power. 
He was, therefore, degraded from his bishopric, compelled to 
recant, and confined for the rest of his life in a conventual prison. 



474 BISHOP PECOCK Lect. X, 

The appearance of a work like the Eepressor is important in the 
ecclesiastical annals of England, because so many of the writings 
of the early reformers were destroyed by the relentless hostility of 
the authorities of the Church, that our materials for a full history 
of those anticipatory movements are incomplete. But the work of 
Pecock has still stronger claims to the attention of the student 
of English literary history, both from its philological interest 
and from its intrinsic merits, as being, if not the first, yet 
certainly the ablest specimen of philosophical argumentation 
which had yet appeared in the English tongue. The style of 
Pecock bears a remarkable resemblance to that of Hooker, who 
lived a century and a half later ; and this likeness in vocabulary 
and structure of period is one of the many evidences tending to 
prove that theology had, from the time of Wyclifife to the 
seventeenth century, a dialect of her own, which was in a great 
measure distinct from and independent of that of secular 
literature, and the regularity of whose progress was little 
affected by the fluctuations that mark the history of the English 
language in other departments of prose composition. 

Although, in diction and arrangement of sentences, the 
Eepressor is much in advance of the chroniclers of Pecock's 
age, the grammar, both in accidence and syntax, is in many 
points nearly where Wycliffe had left it ; and it is of course in 
these respects considerably behind that of the poetical writers 
we have just been considering. Thus, while these latter 
authors, as well as some of earlier date, employ the objective 
plural pronoun them, and the plural possessive pronoun their^ 
Pecock writes always hem for the personal and her for the 
possessive pronoun. Thus in chapter xx. vol. ii. p. 128, /Forto 
conuicte and ouercome the said erring persoones of the lay 
peple, and for to make hem leue her errouris, an excellent 
remedie is the dryuyng of hem into sure knowing, or into 
weenyng or opinioun, that thei neden mich more to leerne and 
knowe into the profit and sure leernyng and knowing of Groddis 
lawe and seruice, than what thei mowe leerne and knowe bi her 



tECT. X. BISHOP PECOCK 475 

reading and stiidiying in the Bible oonli,' &c. These pro- 
nominal forms, however, soon fell into disuse, and they are 
hardly to be met with in any English writer of later date than 
Pecock. With respect to one of them, however, the objective 
hem for therd^ it may be remarked that it has not become 
obsolete in colloquial speech to the present day ; for in such 
phrases as I saiu 'em, / told 'em, and the like, the pronoun ein 
(or 'em) is not, as is popularly supposed, a vulgar corruption of 
the full pronoun them, which alone is found in modern books, 
but it is the true Anglo-Saxon and old English objective plural, 
which, in our spoken dialect, has remained unchanged for a 
thousand years. 

To those not familiar with the English of the end of the 
sixteenth, and the beginning of the seventeenth century, the 
style of Pecock has a quaint and antiquated air, from the free 
use of several obsolete forms, and especially of the adjective 
termination able, which he constantly adds to Saxon roots, as, 
for example, unlackahle, instead of the French indispensable, 
unagainsayable, for indisputable. But such words were very 
common a hundred and fifty years after Pecock wrote, though 
now disused. The rejection of these hybrid words from the 
modern vocabulary is curious, as an instance of the unconscious 
exercise of a linguistic instinct by the English people. The 
objection to such adjectives is their mongrel character, the root 
being Saxon, the termination Eomance ; and it is an innate 
feeling of the incongruity of such alliances, not the speculative 
theories of philologists, which has driven so many of them out 
of circulation. Besides these forms, Pecock uses the verbal 
plural in en, and some other archaic inflections, as well as some 
now obsolete words. The union of these old inflections with a 
modern structure of period is interesting, because it shows 
that the fusion of French and Saxon had given to their pro- 
duct — the English tongue — a linguistic character which was 
founded more on logical principle than on grammatical form, 
and that oui* maternal speech has been for four hundred years 



476 BISHOP PECOCK Lect. X. 

substantially the same, thougli its inflectional characteristics 
have been considerably changed. 

The second chapter of the first part of the Eepressor is here 
printed entire, as a sample of Pecock's logic : — 

Forto meete ajens the firste bifore spoken opinioun, and forto 
vnroote and updrawe it, y schal sette forth first xiij. principal conclu- 
siouns. But for as miche as this vnrooting of the first opinioun and 
the proofis of tho xiij. conclusiouns niowen not be doon and made 
withoute strengthe of argumentis, therfore that y be the better and the 
cleerer vndirstonde of the lay peple in summe wordis to be aftir spoken 
in this present book, y sette nowe bifore to hem this doctrine taken 
schortli out of the faculte of logik. An argument if he be ful and 
foormal, which is clepid a sillogisme, is mad of twey proposiciouns 
dryuing out of hem and bi strengthe of hem the thridde proposicioun. 
Of the "whiche thre proposiciouns the ij. first ben clepid premissis, and 
the iij®. folewing out of hem is clepid the conclusioun of hem. And the 
firste of tho ij. premissis is clepid the first premisse, and the ij°. of hem 
is clepid the ij®. premisse. And ech such argument is of this kinde, 
that if the bothe premissis ben trewe, the conclusioun concludid out and 
bi hem is also trewe ; and but if euereither of tho premissis be trewe, 
the conclusioun is not trewe. Ensaumple her of is this. * Ech man 
is at Eome, the Pope is a man, eke the Poj^e is at Rome.' Lo here ben 
sett forth ij. proposicions, which ben these, 'Ech man is at Eome;' 
and ' The Pope is a man ; ' and these ben the ij. premyssis in this argu- 
ment, and thei dryuen out the iij°. proposicioun, which is this, 'The 
Pope is at Eome,' and it is the conclusioun of the ij. premissis. TVher- 
fore certis if eny man can besikirfor eny tyme that these ij. premyssis 
be trewe, he may be sikir that the conclusioun is trewe ; thou^ alle the 
aungelis in heuen wolden seie and holde that thilk conclusioun were 
not trewe. And this is a general reule, in euery good and formal and 
ful argument, that if his premissis be knowe for trewe, the conclusioun 
oujte be avowid for trewe, what euer creature wole seie the contrarie. 

What propirtees and condiciouns ben requirid to an argument, that 
he be ful and formal and good, is taujt in logik bi ful faire and sure 
reulis, and may not be taujt of me here in this present book. But 
wolde God it were leerned of al the comon peple in her modiris Ian- 
gage, for thanne thei schulden therbi be putt fro myche ruydnes and 
boistosenes which thei han now in resonyng ; and thanne thei schulden 
soone knowe and perceue whanne a skile and an argumiint bindith 
and whanne he not byndith, that is to seie, whanne he concludith and 



Lect. X. BISHOP PECOCK 477 

prouetli Ills conclusioun and "vvhanne lie not so dooth ; and tlianne thei 
schiUden kepe hem silf the better fro falling into errouris, and thei 
myjten the sooner come out of erronris bi heering of argmnentis maad 
to hem, if thei into eny erronris weren falle ; and thanne thei schnlden 
not be so blunt and so rujde and vnformal and boistose in resonyng, 
and that bothe in her arguying and in her answering, as thei now ben ; 
and thanne schulden thei not be so obstinat ajens clerkis and ajens her 
prelatis, as summe of hem now ben, for defaut of perceuyng whanne an 
argument procedith into his conclusioun needis and Vv^hanne he not so 
dooth but semetli oonli so do. And miche good wolde come forth if a 
schort compendiose logik were deuysid for al the comoun peple in her 
modiris langage ; and certis to men of court, leernyng the Kingis lawe 
of Ynglond in these dales, thilk now seid schort compendiose logik 
were ful preciose. Into whos making, if God wole graunte leue and 
leyser, y purpose sumtyme aftir myn othere bisynessis forto assaie. 

But as for now thus miche in this wise ther of here talkid, that y be 
the better vndirstonde in al what y schal argue thoruj this present 
book, y wole come doun into the xiij . conclusiouns, of whiche the firsts 
is this : It longith not to Holi Scripture, neither it is his office into 
which God hath him ordeyned, neither it is his part forto grounde eny 
gouernaunce or deede or seruice of God, or eny lawe of God, or eny 
trouthe which mannis resoun bi nature may fynde, leerne, and knowe. 

That this conclusioun is trewe, y proue thus : Whateuer thing is 
ordeyned (and namelich bi God) for to be ground and fundament of 
eny vertu or of eny gouernaunce or deede or treuth, thilk same thing 
muste so teche and declare and seie out and gene forth al the kunnyng 
vpon the same vertu or gouernance or trouthe, wher with and wherbi 
thilk same vertu, gouernaunce, or trouthe is sufficientli knowen, that 
withoute thilk same thing the same kunnyng of thilk same vertu, gouer- 
naunce, or trouthe may not be sufficientli knowen, so that thilk same 
vertu, gouernaunce, or trouthe, in al the kunnyng withoute which he 
may not at fulle be leerned and knowen, muste nedis growe ibrth and 
come forth out and fro oonli thilk thing which is seid and holden to be 
ther of the ground and the fundament, as anoon aftir schal be proued : 
but so it is, that of no vertu, gouernaunce, or treuthe of Goddis moral 
lawe and seruice, into whos fynding, leerning, and knowing mannis witt 
may by his natural strengthe and natural helpis come, Holi Scripture al 
oon geueth the sufficient kunnyng ; neither fro and out of Holi Scrip- 
ture al oon, whether he be take for the New Testament al oon, or for 
the Newe Testament and the Gold to gidere, as anoon after schal be 
proued, growith forth and cometh forth al the knowing which is nedeful 



478 BISHOP PECOCK Lect. X. 

to be had upon it : wlierfore nedis folewitli, that of no vertu or gouer- 
naunce or trouthe into which the doom of mannis resoun may sufficientli 
ascende and come to, for to it fynde, leerne, and knowe withoute reue- 
lacioim fro God mad ther vpon, is groundid in Holi Scripture. 

The iirste premisse of this argument muste needis be grauntid. For- 
■\vhi, if the sufficient leernyng and kunnyng of eny gouernaunce or eny 
trouthe schulde as miche or more come fro an other thing, as or than 
fro this thing which is seid to be his ground, thanne thilk other thing 
schulde be lijk miche or more and rather the ground of thilk gouern- 
aunce than this thing schulde so be ; and also thilk gouernamice or 
trouthe schuld haue ij. diuerse groundis and schulde be bildid vpon ij. 
fundamentis, of which the oon is dyuers atwyn fro the other, which 
forto seie and holde is not takeable of mannis witt. Wherfore the first 
premisse of the argument is trewe. Ensaumple her of is this : But 
if myn hous stode so in this place of erthe that he not stode so in 
an othir place of erthe ellis, this place of the erthe were not the ground 
of myn hous ; and if eny othir place of the erthe bare myn hous, certis 
myn hous were not groundid in this place of the erthe : and in lijk 
maner, if this treuthe or gouernaunce, that ech man schulde kepe 
mekenes, were knowe bi sum other thing than bi Holi Scripture, and 
as weel and as sufficiently as bi Holi Scripture, thilk gouernaunce or 
trouth were not groundid in Holi Scripture. Forwhi he stood not oonli 
ther on ; and therfore the first premisse is trewe. Also thus : Ther mai 
no thing be fundament and ground of a wal, or of a tree, or of an hous, 
saue it upon which the al hool substaunce of the wal, or of the tree, or 
of the hous stondith, and out of which oonly the wal, tree, or hous 
Cometh. Wherfore bi lijk skile, no thing is ground and fundament of 
eny treuthe or conclusioun, gouernaunce or deede, saue it upon which 
aloon al the gouernaunce, trouthe, or vertu stondith, and out of which 
aloon al the same treuthe or gouernance cometh. 

That also the ij®. premisse is trewe, y proue thus : What euer deede 
or thing doom of resoun dooth as fulli and as perfitli as Holi Scripture 
it dooth, Holi Scripture it not dooth onli or al oon ; but so it is, that 
what euer leernyng and kunnyng Holi Scripture geueth upon eny of the 
now seid gouernauncis, trouthes, and vertues, (that is to seie, upon eny 
gouernaunce, trouthe, and vertu of Goddis lawe to man, in to whos 
fynding, leernyng, and knowing mannis resoun may bi him silf aloon, ' 
or with natural helpis, rise and come,) mannis resoun may and can jeue 
the same leerning and knowing, as experience ther upon to be take 
anoon wole schewe ; for thou canst not fynde oon such gouernaunce 
tau^t in Holi Scripture to be doon, but that resoun techeth it lijk weel 



Lect. X. PKOSE OP FIFTEENTH CENTUET 479 

and lijk fulli to be doon ; and if thou wolt not trowe this, assigne thou 
summe suche and assaie. Wherfore folewith that of noon suche now 
seid gouernauncis the leernyng and knowing is had and taught bi Holi 
Scripture oonli or aloone ; and therfore the ij®. premisse of the firste 
principal argument must needis be trewe. 

And thanne ferther, thus : Sithen the bothe premissis of the first 
principal argument ben trewe, and the argument is formal, nedis muste 
the conclusioun concludid bi hem in the same arguyng be trewe, which 
is the bifore set first principal conclusioun. 

The Paston Letters contain many very curious specimens of 
epistolary composition belonging to this and the preceding cen- 
tury. They are principally written by persons of rank and 
condition, but often betray a singular ignorance of the rules 
of grammar and orthography. 

There is no doubt that English was now the almost universal 
spolien language of all classes of English society ; but it does 
not even yet seem to have been regarded as a fit medium of 
formal communication in official circles. The first volume of 
Eoyal and Historical Letters during the reign of Henry r\^. — 
the only volume yet published — embracing ofificial correspond- 
ence from 1399 to 1400,* contains upwards of sixty letters, 
reports, and other communications, the parties to which were 
English or Scotch. All these, with the exception of one in 
Scotch, and one and part of another in English, are in Latin or 
in French ; laymen generally using the latter, while ecclesi- 
astics commonly preferred the more learned language. It is, 
however, a singular fact, that two of Henry's ambassadors to 
France, Swynford and De Eyssheton, at a period when French 
was so commonly used in public documents in England, pro- 
fessed themselves as ignorant of that language as of Hebrew. 
' Vestras litteras,' say they in a letter to the French Commis- 
sioners, dated October 21, 1404, 'scriptas in Gallico, nobis 
indoctis tanquam in idiomate Hebraico * * * recepimus,' 
These same persons write to Henry IV. in Latin, and in all 
probability their grammatical knowledge of English was about 
on a par with their attainments in French. 



480 PROSE OF FIFTEENTH CENTURT Lect. X. 

The solitary English letter in this volume is as follows : — 

LORD GREY DE RUTHYN TO GRIFFITH AP DAVID AP GRIFFITH. 

GrufTuth ap David ap GriifFuth. 

We send the greting welle, but no thyng with goode hert. 

And we have welle understande thy lettre to iis sent by Deykua 
Vaghan, oiir tenaunt, which maken mention and seist that the fals John 
Weele hath disseyved the. And seist that alle men knowne welle that 
thu was under the protectioun of Mered ap Owyn, and sent to the as 
thu seist by trete of thy cousynes, Maester Edward, and Edwarde ap 
David, and asked the if thu woldest come inne, and he wolde gette the 
thy chartere of the Kyng, and that thu sholdest be Keyshate in Chirk- 
lond ; and other thyngis he beheght the, which he fullfylled noght, as 
thu seiste ; and after warde asked the whether thu woldest go over the 
see with him, and he wolde gette the thy chartere of the King, and 
bryng the to hym sounde and saufe, and thu sholdest have wages as 
moche as any gentelle man that went with hym. And overe thus thu 
seideist that John Welle seide befor the Bishope of Seint Assaph, and 
befor thy cousynes, that, rather than thu sholdest faile, he wolde spenne 
of his oun goode xx marcis. 

Heer up on thu trusted, as thu seiste, and duddest gete the two men, 
and boght the armoure for alle peces, horsen, and other araie, and 
comest to Oswaldestree a nyght befor tha^t thei went ; and on the mo- 
rowe after thu sendest Piers Cambr, the receyvour of Chirklonde, thries 
to hym, to telle hym that thu was redy, and he seide that thu sholdest 
speke no worde with him. And at the last he saide he hadde no wages 
for the, as thu seiste, and he hadde fully his retenue, and bade the goo 
to Sir Richarde Laken to loke whether he hadde nede of the other noo, 
with the Avhich thu, as thu seiste, haddest nevere ado, ne nevere madest 
covenaunt with. For thu woldest, as thu seiste, have goon for no wages 
with hym over see, but for to have thy chartere of the Kyng, and sume 
lyvyng that thu myghtest dwelle in pees. 

And, as thu seist, Sir Richard Laken and Straunge wolle berre 
wittenesse that thu was redy and wjllj for to goon with hym giffe he 
hadde be trewe. And also thu seiste he cam to Laken and to Straunge 
and wolde have made hem to take the, and thu haddest wittyng ther of, 
as thu seiste, and trussed the fro thennes, and knowelechest that thy 
men cam and breeke our parke by nyght, and tooke out of hyt two of 
our horses, and of our menis. 

And, as hit is tolde the, thu seiste, that we ben in pourpose to make 
our men brenne and slee in what so ever cuntree thu be inne, and wilt 



LeCT. X. PKOSE OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY 481 

withouten cloute, as thu seiste, as many men as we slee and as many 
housen tliat we brenne for tliy sake, as many brenne and slee for our 
sake. And, as tliu seiste. tlin wilt have botlie breede and ale of tlie 
best that is in our lordshipe ; and heer of thu biddest us have no doute, 
the whiche is agayn our wylle, gife any thu have breede other ale so, 
and ther as thu berrest up on us that we sholde ben in pourpose to 
brenne and sleen men and housen for thy sake, or for any of thj^n en- 
clinant to the, or any of hem that ben the Kinges trewe liege men, we 
was nevere'so mys avised to worch agayn the Kyng no his lawes, 
whiche giiFe we dudde, were heigh tresoun ; but thu hast hadde fals 
messageres and fals reportoures of us touchjmg this matere ; and that 
shalle be welle knowen un to the King and alle his Coimsaile. 

Ferthermore, ther as thu knowlechest by thyn oun lettre that thy 
men hath stolle our horsen out of our parke, and thu recettour of hem, 
we hoope that thu and thy men shalle have that ye have deserved. 
For us thynketh, thegh John Welle hath doon as thu aboven has certe- 
fied, us thynketh that that sholde rioght be wroken towarde us. But 
we hoope we shalle do the a pryve thyng ; a roope, a ladder, and a 
ring, heigh on gallowes for to henge. And thus shalle be your endyng. 
And he that made the be ther to helpyng, and we on our behalfe shalle 
be welle willyng. For thy lettre is knowlechyng. 

Written, etc. 



LECTUEE XI, 

THE ENGLISH LANGTJAaE AND LITERATUEE FllOM CAXTON 
TO THE ACCESSION OF ELIZABETH. 

The importance of the invention of printing, startling and 
mysterious as it seemed, was very imperfectly appreciated by 
contemporary Europe. It was at first regarded only as an 
economical improvement, and in England it was slow in pro- 
ducing effects which were much more speedily realized on the 
Continent. In England, for a whole generation, its influence 
was scarcely perceptible in the increase of literary productivity, 
and it gave no sudden impulse to the study of the ancient 
tongues, though the printing-ofHces of Grermany and Italy, and, 
less abundantly, of France, were teeming with editions of the 
Greek and Latin classics, as well as of the works of Grothic and 
Eomance writers, new and old. 

The press of Caxton, the first English printer, was in activity 
from 1474 to 1490. In these sixteen years, it gave to the world 
sixty-three* editions, among which there is not the text of a 

* The whole number of productions issued by Caxton is stated, in the Appendix 
to the late reprint of The Grame of the Chesse, by Mr. Vincent Figgins, at sixty- 
seven, three of which were printed before Caxton's return to England, Several 
of these were but pamphlets, or perhaps single sheets. They may be classed as 
follows : In French, two ; in Latin, seven ; two or three with Latin titles, but 
language of text not indicated in the list ; the remainder in English. The only 
original works of native English authors are : The Chronicles of Englond, The 
Descripcioun of Britayne, The Polycronycon, Gower's Confessio Amantis, 
Chaucer's Tayles of Cantyrburye, Chaucer's and Lydgate's Minor Poems, Chau- 
cer's Book of Fame, Troylus and Creseide, Lydgate's Court of Sapience, Lydgate's 
Lyf of our Ladye, and possibly one or two others. These, with the exception of 
the poems of Lydgate, and of Caxton's own additions to the works he published, 
all belong to the preceding century. 



Lect. XL caxton's peess 483 

single work of classic antiquity, though there are a few transla- 
tions of Grreek and Latin authors, chiefly taken, however, at 
second hand from the French. Caxton printed a few ecclesias- 
tical manuals, and a volume of parliamentary statutes, in Latin, 
and one or two works in French ; but it does not satisfactorily 
appear that his press issued a single original work by a contem- 
porary English author, if we except his own continuations of 
older works published by him. He rendered good service to 
his ovvn generation, indeed, by priuting editions of Chaucer, 
Govfer and Lydgate, and thus disseminating the works of those 
authors through England ; but it is very doubtful whether, in 
the end, the publication of those editions was not an injury, 
rather than a benefit, to the cause of later English literature. 

It was Caxton's general practice, as appears from his own re- 
peated avowals, to reduce the orthograpby and grammar, and 
sometimes even the vocabulary, of the authors he printed, to 
the usage of his own time, or rather to an arbitrary and not 
very uniform standard set up by himself. He had spent a large 
part of his life in Flanders and in France, where he established 
presses, and where he printed both in French and in Latin 
before undertaking any English work. His own style is full pf 
G-allicisms in vocabulary and phrase, and there is very little 
doubt that his changes of his copy were much oftener corrup- 
tions than improvements.* In the preface to his second edition 
of the Canterbury Tales, he professes to have conformed to an 
approved manuscript; but this declaration evidently only nega- 
tives the addition or omission of verses, or, as he expresses it: 



* The number of Freneii words in Caxton's translations is large. In the 
second edition of the Game of the Chesse — believed to be the first book he 
printed in England — they are nearly three times as numerous, proportionately^ 
as in the Morte d' Arthur printed by him, but translated by Malorye ; and yet 
Malorye — whose general diction is perhaps more purely Anglo-Saxon than that 
of any English %v'riter, except the Wycliifite translators, for at least a century 
before his age — adopted from his original many words which appear for the first 
time in English in his pages. 



484 caxton's press Lect. XL 

'setting in somme thjmges that he [Chaucer] never sayd ne 
made, and leving out many thynges that he made, whyche ben 
requysite to be sette in it ; ' and we have no reason to doubt 
that in what he held to be minor matters, he practised in this 
case something of the same license as with other authors.* 

The printing of a manuscript generally involves the destruc- 
tion of the original ; and there is little probability that any of 
those employed by Caxton escaped the usual fate of authors' 
copies. Besides this, the printiug of a work greatly diminishes 
the current value of existing manuscripts of the same text, just 
as a ne\Y edition of a modern book often makes earlier impres- 
sions worthless. In Caxton's age, English scholars possessed no 
such critical acquaintance with their mother tongue, as to have 
the slightest notion of the great importance of scrupulously 
preserving the original texts of earlier writers; and hence 
Caxton's editions undoubtedly caused, not only the sacrifice of 
the manuscripts on which they were founded, but the neglect 
and destruction of many others, which might otherwise have 

""■ The wliole passage is as folloAvs : ' Wliielie "book I have dylygently oyersen, 
and duly examyned to the ende that it be made aceordyng unto his owen makyng ; 
for I fynde many of the sayd bookes, whiche wryters hare abrydgyd it, and 
many thynges left out, and in some places have sette certayn versys that he never 
made ne sette in hys booke ; of whyche bookes so incorrecte ^I'as one broughte to 
me vi. yere passyd, whiche I supposed had ben veray true and correcte, and 
aceordyng to the same I dyde do enprynte a certayn nomber of them, whyche 
anon were soldo to many and dyverse gentyl men, of v/hom one gentylman cam 
to me, and sayd that this book was not according in many places unto the book 
that Gefferey Chaucer had made. To whom I answered, that I had made it 
aceordyng to my copye, and by me was nothing added ne mynushyd. Thenne he 
sayd, he knewe a book whyche hys fader had and moche lovyd, that was very 
trewe, and aceordyng unto hys owen first book by hym made ; and sayd more, yf I 
wold enprynte it agayn, he wold gete me the same book for a copye. How be it 
he wyst well that hys fader wold not gladly departe fro it. To whom I said, in 
caas that he coude gete me suche a book, trewe and correcte, yet I wold ones 
endevoyre me to enprynte it agayn, for to satisfy the auctour, where as tofore by 
ygnoraunce I erryd in hurtyng and dyfFamyng his book in dyverce places, in 
setting in somme thynges that he never sayd ne made, and leving out many 
thynges that he made whyche ben requysite to be sette in it. And thus we fyll 
at accord, and he full gentylly gate of hys fader the said book, and delyvered it to 
me, by whiche I have corrected my book, as heere after alle alonge by the ayde 
of almighty God shal folowe, whom I humbly beseche &c.' 



Lect. XL ENGLISH OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY 485 

been saved to a period when their worth would have been better 
appreciated. This serves to explain how it is that we have 
older, better, and more numerous manuscripts of the Wycliffite 
versions of the Bible than of Chaucer; and, in a purely literary 
point of view, it is a cause of congratulation, rather than of 
regret, that Caxton never undertook the publishing of those 
translations. Had he done this, v/e should, in all probability, 
now possess only a corrupt printed text, and a few manuscripts 
of doubtful value ; whereas the want of an early printed edition 
has insured the careful preservation of the codices, and the 
scholarship of this century has given us tw^o complete and 
admirably edited ancient texts, with various readings from a 
great number of old and authentic copies. 

The works of Pecock, as I have observed, show that in his 
hands the English theological prose dialect, though still sub- 
stantially the same in grammatical form, had made a consider- 
a.ble advance upon Wycliffe in vocabulary, and more especially 
in the logical structure of period ; and the poems of King 
James I. and of Lydgate exhibit, though in a less degree, in- 
creased affluence and polish of diction as compared with Chaucer. 
But in the secular prose of the fifteenth century we find few 
evidences of real progress ; and in the productions of Caxton's 
press, which, as we have seen, generally bear his own ear-mark, 
little improvement is visible. For the every-day purposes of 
material life, and for the treatment of such poetic themes and 
the creation of such poetical forms as satisfied the taste of the 
English people, the language of England was very nearly suffi- 
cient, as Chaucer and his contemporaries had left it, and there 
was naturally little occasion for efforts at improvement in speech 
until new conditions of society and of moral and intellectual 
culture should create a necessity for it. 

These new conditions, which were common to Great Britain 
and to the Continent, produced a visible effect upon the intel- 
lectual life of the latter long before they showed themselves as 
influential agencies in the literature of England. The insular 



486 ENGLISH OF CAXTOn's TIME Lect. XI. 

position of that country prevented the rapid spread of the new 
opinions and the new discoveries which originated in Grerman 
and Eomance Europe; and they were the slower in disseminat- 
ing themselves among the English people, because France, the 
country with which England had the freest and most frequent 
communication, was behind Italy and Grermany in availing 
itself of them. 

The commercial and political relations between England on 
the one hand, and Grermany and the Italian states on the other, 
were of no such closeness or importance as to create a reciprocal 
influence between them. The vernacula^r tongues of these 
latter were stranger to the Englishman than the speech of 
France, which was still, to a considerable extent, the language 
of English jurisprudence ; and classical literature had not 3^et 
become so well known to English laymen as to ma.ke the Latin 
works of Grerman and Italian literati readily intelligible to 
them. At the same time, a growing national hostilit}?" to France 
had gradually diminished the influence of French literature; 
and thus, from the end of the fourteenth century till near the 
close of the fifteenth, the English mind was left to its own 
unaided action, its own inhere^nt resources, while all the other 
European states were territorially and politically so connected 
that they were constantly acting and reacting upon each other 
as enlivening and stimulating forces. 

The civil Avars of England had also an unfavourable effect 
upon English literature; for — though the moral excitement of 
periods of strife and revolution often begets a mental activity 
which, after the tumult of war is over, manifests itself in 
splendid intellectual achievement — it is as true of letters as of 
laws, that, for the time being, the clash of arms hashes their 
voice to silence. 

Perhaps there is no better method of enabling the reader 
to form an idea of the condition in which Caxton found the 
English of his time, and the state to which he contributed to 
bring it, than by introducing extracts from the Morte d' Arthur 



Lect. XI. THE MORTE d'ARTIIUR 487 

and from Caxton himself. The Morte d' Arthur is not, indeed, 
a work of English invention, nor, on the other hand, is it just 
to style it simply a translation. No continuous French original 
for it is known ; but it is a compilation from various French 
romances, harmonized and connected so far as Malorye was 
able to make a consistent whole out of them, by supplying here 
and there links of his own forging. 

In the introduction to the reprint of 1817, Southey says: 
' The Morte d' Arthur is a compilation from some of the most 
esteemed romances of the Eound Table. Had the volumes 
from which it is compiled existed in English, Sir Thomas 
Malory would not have thought of extracting parts from them, 
and blending them into one v/ork. This was done at the best 
possible time : a generation earlier, the language would have 
retained too much of its Teutonic form ; a generation later, and 
the task of translation would have devolved into the hands of 
men who performed it as a trade, and equally debased the 
work which they interpreted and the language in v/hich they 
wrote.' This is very superficial criticism. 

' A generation earlier ' would have carried us back to the time 
of Pecock ; ' a generation later ' would have brought us down to 
that of Lord Berners, the translator of Froissart. If Pecock 
be taken as the standard of his age, I admit the language 
must be regarded as still retaining much more of its Teutonic 
form than it showed in the hands of Sir Thomas Malorye. But 
while Pecock was grammatically behind his age, he was rhetori- 
cally far in advance of it ; and I am by no means certain that 
he could not have given us a better translation of the patch- 
work put together by Malorye than Malorye has done. On the 
other hand, I cannot admit that Lord Berners ^ debased ' either 
* the work he interpreted ' or ' the language in which he wrote,' 
in his sometimes slovenly, but always marvellously spirited, 
translation of the great chronicler Froissart.* 

* I apply the epithet ' great ' to Froissart advisedly. I know that critical in- 
Testigators — tithers of mint and cumin — hare detected errors of timo and place 



488 THE MORTE d'ARTHUR Lect. XI. 

The narrative of the death of Arthur, which I take from the 
fifth chapter of the twenty-first book of the Morte d' Arthur, 
according to South ey's reprint of Caxton's edition of 1485, is a 
favourable specimen of Malory q's style. The proportion of 
French words, which does not exceed four per cent., is smaller 
than Malory e's general average; but it would be difficult to find 
any author of later date than the middle of the fourteenth 
century whose vocabulary is so ' Teutonic ' as his : — 

Therfore sayd Arthur vnto syr Bedwere, take tliou Excalybur my 
good swerde and goo with it to yonder water syde, and whan tlioii 
comest there I charge the throwe my swerde in that water & come 
ageyn and telle me v/hat thou there seest. My lord said Bedwere your 
commaundement shal be doon & lyghtly brynge jou. worde ageyn. So 
syr Bedwere departed, & by the waye he behelde that noble swerde 

in his chronology and his geography ; and no doubt he has sometimes ascribed, to 
an insignificant and forgotten John, quaint words and hard knocks which were 
really spoken and given by an equally insignificant and forgotten Peter. But his 
canvas shows no false colouring, no want of keeping, no confusion of costume ; 
and the incidents he narrates, if not ahvays true of the persons whom he introduces 
as parties to them, were, in general, true of somebody, or — which comes to the 
same thing — might have been so, without any violation of the proprieties of 
natm-e. 

Turner did not hesitate to introduce into his landscapes a tree — if necessary 
for his lights, and shades, and distances — where nature had blunderingly left it 
out, or some ruthless woodman cut it down. But there is this difference between 
the two artists: the painter deliberately invented the missing object, and painted it 
in ; the chronicler simply admitted that which was narrated to him, if his instincts 
told him it was probable and apposite, v/ithout very scrupulously inquiring into 
its exact historical truth. 

Without Froissart, we might construct a skeleton history of the fourteenth cen- 
tury — a plot of the drama which should be more exact in the mechanical 
shifting of the scenes than his narrative — but the dramatis personse would be 
wired skeletons also, with no pulse in their arteries, no ' speculation in the eyes 
they glare with.' 

A modern historian, writing the annals of Eroissart's time, would certainly 
omit the story of the 'Lorde of Corasse's' familiar spirit Orton, and, in speaking 
of the island of Cephalonia, would fail to inform us that 'the fayry and the 
nympes be moche conuersaunt there ; ' but Froissart's mixture of the truth and the 
fable which intermixed themselves in the life of his time, makes us more inti- 
mately acquainted with the man and wom.an of the fourteenth century than we 
could become by the study of true annals in one volume, and of a learned essay oa 
popular superstitious iu another. 



tiECT. XL THE MORTE d'aRTHUR 489 

that the pomel & the hafte was al of precyous stones, & thenne he 
sayd to hym self yf I throwe this ryche swerde in the water therof shal 
neuer come good but harme & losse. And thenne syr bedwere hydde 
excalybur vnder a tree. And so as sone as he myght he came ageyn 
vnto the kyng and sayd he liad ben at the water and had throwen the 
swerde in to the water. ^Yliat sawe thou there sayd the kyng, syr he 
sayd I sawe no thynge but wawes and wyndes. That is vntrewly sayd 
of the sayd the kynge. Therfore goo thou lyghtelye ageyn and do my 
commaundemente as thou arte to me leef & dere sj^are not but throwe it 
in. Than syr bedwere retorned ageyn & took the swerde in hys hande^, 
and than hym thought synne and shame to thro^ve awaye that nobyl 
swerde, and so efte he hydde the swerde and retorned ageyn and tolde 
to the kyng that he had ben at the water and done his commaunde- 
mente. What sawe thou there sayd the kyng. Syr he sayd I sawe no 
thynge but the waters wappe and wawes wannc. A traytour vntrewe 
sayd kyng Arthiu* now hast thou betrayed me t^vyse. Who wold haue 
wente that thou that hast been to me so leef and dere and thou arte 
named a noble knyghte and wold betraye me for the richesse of the 
swerde. But now goo ageyn lyghtly for thy longe taryeng putteth me 
in grete jeopardye of my lyf. For I haue taken colde, and but yf thou 
do now as I byd the, yf euer I may see the I shal slee the (Avyth) m.yn 
owne handes, for thou woldest for my ryche swerde see me dede. 
Thenne Syr Bedwere departed and wente to the swerde and tyghtly 
took hit up, and wente to the Avater syde and there he bounde the 
gyrdyl aboute the hyltes, and thenne he threwe the swerde as far re in 
to the water as he myght, & there cam an arme and a hande aboue the 
water and mette it, & caught it and so shoke it thryse and braundysshed, 
and than vanysshed away'e the. hande wyth the swerde in the water. 
So syr Bedwere came ageyn to the kyng and tolde hym what he sawe. 
Alas sayd the kyng helpe me hens for I drede me I haue taryed ouer 
longe. Than syr Bedwere toke the kyng vpon his backe and so wente 
wyth hym to that water syde ; & whan they were at the water syde, 
euyn fast by the banke houed a lytyl barge wyth many fayr ladyes in 
hit, & emonge hem al was a queue, and al they had blacke hoodes, and 
al they wepte and shryked whan they sawe Kyng Arthur. 

Now put me in to the barge, sayd the kyng and so he dyd softelye. 
And there receyued hym thre queues wyth grete mornyng and soo they 
sette hem doun, and in one of their lajDpes kyng Ai-thur layd hys heed, 
and than that queue sayd, a dere broder why haue ye taryed so longe 
from me. Alas this wounde on your heed hath caught ouermoche 
eolde. And soo than they rowed from the londe, and syr bedwere 



490 CAXTON's ENGLISH Lect. XL 

belielde all tlio ladyes goo from liym. Tlian syr bedwere cryed a my 
lord Arthur what shal become of me now ye goo from me. And leiie 
me here allone emonge myn enemyes. Comfort thy self sayd the kyng 
and doo as wel as thou mayst, for in me is no truste for to truste in. 
For I wyl in to the vale of auylyon to hele me of my greuous wounde. 
And yf thou here neuer more of me praye for my soule, but euer the 
queues and the ladyes wepte and shryched that hit was ]}jte to here. 
And assone as syr BedAvere had loste the syght of the baarge he wepte 
and waylled and so took the foreste, and so he wente al that nyght and 
in the mornyng he was ware betwixte two holtes hore of a chapel and 
an ermytage. 

Caxton's introduction to the Morte d' Arthur is rather more 
thickly sprinkled with French and Latin words than his ordinary 
writing, but it is, upon the v/hole, a fair sample of his style and 
diction, which, it will be observed, contrasts strongly with the 
Saxon-English of Malorye : — 

After that I had accomplysshed and fynysshed dyuers hystoryes as 
wel of contemplacyon as of other hystoryal and Vforldly actes of grete 
conquerours & prynces. And also certeyn bookes of ensaumples and 
doctryne. Many noble and dyuers gentylmen of thys royame of 
Englond camen and demaunded me many and oftymes, wherfore that I 
haue not do made & enprynte the noble hystorye of the saynt greal, 
and of the moost renomed crysten Kyng. Fyrst and chyef of the thre 
best crysten and worthy, kyng Arthur, whyche ought moost to be re- 
membred emonge vs englysshe men tofore al other crysten kynges. 
For it is notoyrly knowen thorugh the vnyuersal world, that there been 
ix worthy & the best that euer were. That is to wete thre paynyms, 
thre Jewes and thre crysten men. As for the paynyms they were tofore 
the Incarnacyon of Cryst, whiche were named, the fyrst Hector of Troye, 
of whome thystorye is comen bothe in balade and in prose. The second 
Alysaunder the grete, & the thyrd Julyus Cezar Emperour of Eome 
of whome thystoryes ben wel kno and had. And as for the thre Jewes 
whyche also were tofore thyncarnacyon of our lord of whome the fyrst 
was Due Josue whyche brought the chyldren of Israhel in to the londe 
of byheste. The second Dauyd kyng of Jherusalem, & the thyrd Judas 
Machabeus of these thre the byble reherceth al theyr noble hystoryes 
& actes. And sythe the sayd Incarnacyon haue ben thre noble crysten 
men stcilled and admytted thorugh the vnyuersal vforld in to the nombre 
of the ix beste & worthy, of whome was fyrst the noble Arthur whose 



Lect. XI. CAXTON's ENGLISH 491 

noble actes I purpose to -vviyte in tliys present book Here folowyng. 
The second Vv'as Chaiiemayn or Charles the grete, of whome tliystorye 
is had in many places bothe in frensshe and englysshe, and the thyrd 
and last v/as Godefray of boloyn, of whose actes & Hfe I made a book 
vnto thexcellent prynce and kyng of noble memorye kyng Edward the 
fourth, the sayd noble Jentylmen instantly reqnyred me temprynte 
tliystorye of the sayd noble kyng and conquerour king Arthur, and of 
his knyghtes wyth thystorye of the saynt grcal, and of the deth and 
endyng of the sayd Arthur. AiFermjaig that I ouzt rather tenprynet 
his actes and noble feates, than of godefroye of boloyne, or any of the 
other eyght, consyderyng that he was a man born wythin this royame 
and kyng and Emperour of the same. 

And that there ben in frensshe dyuers and many noble volumes of 
his actes, and also of his knyghtes. To whome I ansv/ered, that dyuers 
men holde oj^pynyon, that there Avas no suche Arthur, and that alle 
suche bookes as been maad of hym, ben but fayned and fables, by cause 
that somme crony cles make of hym no mencyon ne remembre hym noo 
thynge ne of his knyghtes. Wherto they answered, and one in specyal 
sayd, that in hym that shold say or thynke, that there was neuer suche 
a kyng callyd Arthur, myght wel be aretted grete folye and blyndenesse. 
For he sayd that there were many euydences of the contrarye. Fyrst 
ye may see his sepulture in the monasterye of Glastyngburye. And 
also in polycronycon in the v book the syxte chappytre, and in the 
seuenth book the xxiii chappytre where his body was buryed and after 
founden and translated in to. the sayd monasterye, ye shal se also in 
thystorye of bochas in his book de casii principum, parte of his noble 
actes, and also of his falle. Also galfrydus in his brutysshe book re- 
counteth his lyf, and in diuers places of Englond, many remembraunces 
ben yet of hym and shall remayne perpetuelly, and also of his knyghtes. 
Fyrst in the abbey of Westmestre at saynt Edwardes shryne remayneth 
the prynte of his seal in reed waxe closed in beryll. In whych is 
wiyton Patrkius ArtJiurus, Britanme, Gallie, Germanie, dacie^ Im- 
perator. Item in the castel of doner ye may see Gauwayns skulle, & 
Cradoks m.antel. At Wynchester the rounde table, in other places 
Launcelottes swerde and many other thynges. Thenne al these thynges 
consydered there can no man reasonably gaynsaye but there was a kyng 
of thys lande named Arthur. For in al places crysten and hethen he is 
reputed and taken for one of the ix worthy. And the fyrst of the thre 
Crysten men. And also he is more spoken of beyondc the see moo 
bookes made of his noble actes than there be in englond as wel in duche 
ytalyen spanysshe and grekysshe as in frensshe. And yet of record re- 



492 NEW INFLUENCES Lect. XL 

mayne in wytnesse of Lym in Wales in tlie tonne of Camelot tlie grete 
stones & meruay]lous werkys of yron lyeng vnder the grounde & ryal 
vaiites whicli dyuers now lyuyng hatli seen. Wherfor it is a mernayl 
why he is no more renomed in his owne contreye, sanf onelye it accordeth 
to the word of god, whyche sayth that no man is accept for a prophete 
in his owne contreye.. Thene all these thynges forsayd aledged I coude 
not wel denye, bnt that there was snche a noble kyng named arthnr and 
reputed one of the ix worthy & fyrst & cheyf of the cristen men, & 
many noble volumes be made of hym & of his noble knygtes in frensshe 
which I haue seen & redde beyonde the see which been not had in our 
maternal tongue, but in walsshe ben many & also in frensshe, & somme 
in englysshe but no wher nygh alle. Wherfore suche as haue late ben 
drawen oute bryefly in to englysshe, I haue after the symple connyng 
tljat god hath sente to me, vnder the fauour and correctyon of al noble 
lordes and gentylmen enprysed to enprynte a book of the noble hystoryes 
of the sayd kynge Arthur, and of certeyn of his knyghtes after a copye 
vnto me delyuerd, whyche copye Syr Thomas Malorye dyd take oute of 
certeyn bookes of irensshe and reduced it in to Englysshe. And I 
accordyng to my copye haue doon sette it in enprynte, to the entente 
that the noble men may see and lerne the noble acts of chyualrye, the 
jentyl and vertuous dedes that somme knyghtes vsed in tho dayes, by 
whyche they came to honour, and how they that were vycious were 
punysshed and ofte put to shame and rebuke, liumbly bysechyng al 
noble lordes and ladyes wyth al other estates of Avhat estate or degree 
they been of, that shal see and rede in this sayd book and werke, that 
they take the good and honest actes in their remembraunce, and to 
folowe the same. Wherin they shalle fynde many joyous and playsaunt 
hystoryes and noble & renomed actes of hum any te, gentylnesse and 
chyualryes. For herein may be seen noble chyualiye, Curtosye, Hu- 
manyte, frendlynesse, hardynesse, loue, irendshyp, Cowardyse, Murdre, 
hate, vertue, and synne. Doo after the good and leue the euyl, and it 
shal brynge you to good fame and renommee. And for to passe the 
tyme this book shal be plesaunte to rede in, but for to giue fayth and 
bylene that al is trewe that is conteyned herin, ye be at your lyberte, 
but al is wryton for our doctryne, and for to beware that we falle not 
to vyce ne synne, but texcercyse and folowe vertu, by whyche we may 
come and atteyne to good fame and renommee in thys lyf, and after thys 
shorte and transytorye lyf to come vnto euerlastyng blysse in heuen, 
the whyche he graunt vs that reygneth in heuen the blessyd Trynyte. 
Amen. 

But the period was at hand when the four great events 



Lect. XI. BISHOP FISHER 493 

I mentioned in the last lecture were to exert upon England 
the full strength of their united influence ; and I shall now 
endeavour to point out the effects they produced during the 
first half of the sixteenth centur}^, though I shall not have 
space always to distinguish between these effects as referable 
to this or that particular cause, or to describe specifically the 
different modes in which those causes acted. It must suffice, 
for the present, to say that the influence of them all was in one 
and the same direction. They all tended to promote a wider 
and more generous culture, a freer and bolder spirit of inves- 
tigation, a more catholic and cosmopolitan view of the mutual 
relations of different brpinches of the human family, a deeper 
insight into the secrets of this m3^sterious life of ours, and a 
range of the imagination corresponding to the vastly enlarged 
field of observation which was now opened to the vision of men. 

I have repeatedl}^ spoken of the diction of theology and 
religion in England, as having always been in a more advanced 
state of culture than that of secular prose. This continued to 
be the relation of the two dialects, not only through the 
period to which my sketches extend, but until after the Eesto- 
ration of Charles 11. From that epoch, theology declined in 
general estimation, and was no longer regarded as a necessary 
study for laymen of finished education. Its dialect was of 
course neglected, and in the space of a single generation it lost, 
and has never since recovered, its ancient superiority over the 
tongue of secular life. 

An extract from a sermon delivered by Bishop Fisher in 
1509, in memory of the Countess of Derby, mother of King 
Henry VII., will serve to show the character and condition of 
the language when employed for solemn and religious purposes 
at this period : — 

This holy Gofpel late red contayneth in it a Dyalogue, that is to fay 
a Commynication betwixt the Woman of blejfTyd Memory, called 
Martha, and our Savyour Jhefu. Which Dyalogue I would apply unto 
this noble Prynces late deceafyd, in whofe remembrance this office and 



494 BISHOP FISHER Lect. XI. 

obfervances be done at tliis time. And thre tliyngs by tlie leave of 
God I will entende. Firft, to fhew wherein this Prynces may well be 
lykned and compared nnto the bleffyd Woman Martha. Second, how 
flie may complain imto our Savyonr Jhefu for the paynM dethe of her 
body, like as Martha dyd for the dethe of her Broder Lazarus. Thyrde, 
the comfortable Anfwere of our Savyour Jhefu iinto her again. In the 
firft fhall ftand her prayfe and commendation; In the fecounde, our 
mournyngefor the grete lofs of hyrr ; In the thyrd, our comfort again. 

Fyrft I fay, the comparyfon of them two may be made in four thyngs ; 
In noblenefs of Perfon, In difcypline of their Bodys, In orderyng of 
their Souls to God, In liofpytalytyes kepping, and charytable dealyng 
to their Neighbours. In which four, the noble Woman Martha (as iay 
the Dodlors, entreatynge this Gofpel and hyr Lyfe) was fmgularly to be 
commended and prayfed : wherefore let us confider lykewife, whether 
in this noble CountelTe may ony thynge like be founde. 

Firfte, the blefTed Martha was a woman of noble blode, to whom by 
inherytance belonged the Caftle of Bethany ; and this noblenefs of blode 
they have, which defcended of noble Lynage. Befide this, there is a 
noblenefs of maners, withouten which, the noblenefs of blode is moche 
defaced, for as Boecius fayth, if oughte be good in the noblenefs of 
blode, it is for that thereby the noble men and women fholde be 
afliamed, to go out of kynde, from the vertuous maners of their aun- 
cetrye before. Yet alfo there is another noblenefle, which aryfeth in 
every Perfon, by the goodneffe of nature, whereby fall often fuch as 
come of ryghte pore and unnoble Fader and Moder, have grete abletees 
of nature to noble dedes. Above aU the fame, there is a foure maner 
of noblenefTe, which may be called, an encreafed noblenefie, as by mar- 
ryage and aiFynyte of more noble perfons ; fiich as were of lefTe con- 
dycyon, may encreafe in hygher degree of noblenelTe. 

In every of thefe, I fuppofe, this CountelTe was noble. Fyrft, ftie 
came of noble blode, lyneally defcendyng of Kynge Edward the 3d. 
within the foure degree of the fame. Her Fader was Johan Duke of 
Somerfet, her Moder was called Margarete, ryghte noble as well in 
maners, as in blode, to whom Ihe was a veray Daughter in all noble 
maners, for fhe was bounteous and lybcral to every Perfon of her 
knowledge or acquaintance. Avarice and Covetyfe fhe moft hated, and 
forowed it full moche in all perfons, but fpecially in ony, that belong'd 
unto her. She was alfo of fyngular Eafyncfs to be f^ioken unto, and 
full curtayfe anfwere fhe would make to all that came unto her. Of 
mervayllous gentylenefs flie was unto all folks, but fpecially unto her 
owne, whom flie trufted and loved ryghte tenderly. Unkyndc (ho 



Lect. XI. LORD BERKEES'S FROISSAUT 495 

wolde not be unto no creature, ne forgetfnil of ony kyndnefs or fervyce 
done to lier before, wliich is no lytel part of veray noblenefs. She was 
not vengeable, ne criiell, but redy anone to forgete and forgyve injuryes 
done unto her, at the leeil defjnre or niocyon made unto her for the 
fame. Mercyfull alfo and pyteous fhe was unto fuch, as was grevyed 
and Avrongfully troubled, and to them that were m Poverty, or feke- 
nefs, or any other myfery. 

To God and to the Chirche full obedient and tradable. Serchynge 
his honour and plefure full befyly. A warenefs of her felf fhe had 
alway to efchewe every thyng, that myght dilhonell ony noble Woman, 
or dillayne her honour, in ony condycyon. Fryvelous thyngs, that 
were lytell to be regarded, fhe wold let pafs by, but the other, that 
were of weyght and fubllance, Avherein llie myght prouij^te, Ihe wolde 
not let for ony payne or labour, to take upon hande. Thefe and many 
other fuch noble condycyons, left unto her by her Ancetres, flie kept 
and encreafed therein, with a greate dylygence. 

The third noblenefs alfo Ihe v/anted not, which I fayd, was the noble- 
nefs of Nature. She had in a maner all that was pray fable in a 
"Woman, either in Soul or Body. Fyrft, fhe was of fingular Wifedom 
ferre pallyng the comyn rate of women. She was good in remem- 
braunce and of holdyng memorye, a redye wytte fhe had alfo to 
conceive all thyngs, albeit they were ryghte derke : Eight iludious {he 
was in Bokes, which fhe had in grete number, both in Englyfh and in 
Frenflie, and for her exercife and for the profyte of others, fhe did 
tranflate divers maters of Devocyon put of the Frenfh into Englyfh. 
Full often fhe complayned, that in her youthe, flie had not given her to 
the underilanding of Latin, wherein fhe had a lytell perceyvyng, 
fpecyally of the Eubryflie of the Drdynall, for the faying of her Servyce, 
which fhe did well underftand. Hereunto in favour, in words, in geilure, 
in every demeanour of herfelf fo grete noblenefs did appear, that what 
flie fpake or dyde, it mervaylloufly became her. 

The most important EDglish work of the first quarter of the 
sixteenth century, Vv^hether as a philological monument, or as a 
production -which could not have failed to exert an influence on 
the tone of English literature, is Lord Berners's Translation of 
the Chronicles of Froissa,rt, the first volume of which was 
published in 1523, the second in 1525. Lord Berners had been 
distinguished in military a.nd civil life, in which he continued 
actively engaged until he returned from a mission to Spain ia 



496 LOKD BERNEES'S FROISSAET Lect, XI. 

1518, and was appointed ta the responsible, but, apparently, not 
very laborious, post of Grovernor of Calais, wMch then belonged 
to tbe English crown. He occupied his leisure with literary 
pursuits, and, besides the Chronicles of Froissart, he translated 
Arthur of Little Britain, an absurd romance of chivalry, and 
several other works. He states, in the preface to Froissart, 
and elsewhere, that the task was undertaken by command of 
Henry VIII. The translation of so voluminous a work was 
probably not begun until his retirement to a post of comparative 
quiet ; and if we suppose that he devoted the same time to the 
first as to the second volume, it must have been commenced 
about the year 1521. 

Notwithstanding the sworn friendship between Henry VIIL 
and Francis I. — of which so ostentatious a profession was made 
at the famous Field of the Cloth of Gold in 1520 — Henry was 
cajoled by the adroit flattery bestowed on him by the Papal 
Court, for his Treatise on the Seven Sacraments, into a secret 
league with Pope Leo X. and Charles V., then King of Spain, 
but not yet emperor, against Francis I. This alliance was 
concluded in November • 1521, and in the summer of 1522 
Henry commenced hostilities against France. The extrava- 
gant prodigality of the English prince, in royal festivities and 
other showy but unprofitable expenditures, had exhausted the 
treasures which the avarice of his father had accumulated, and 
he was obliged to resort to the most burdensome and unjust 
measures to replenish his exchequer and prepare for the foreign 
war in which he was about to engage. 

It is a not improbable conjecture, that the hope of reconciling 
the English people to the expenses and sacrifices of a war with 
France was a prominent motive with the king for desiring a 
translation of Froissart to appear at this time. However this 
may be, few things could have been better calculated to 
accomplish this object than the brilliant and picturesque 
sketches given, by the most delightful of chroniclers, of the 
exploits of the Black Prince, and of the other numerous 



Lect. XL LOED BEENERS'S FEOISSAET 497 

instances of heroic daring and chivalrous achievement with 
which his spirited pages glitter. A large part of France was the 
■undoubted patrimony of the Norman dynasty in England, and 
there had been questionable claims to other still more extensive 
provinces. The revival of the memory of these asserted rights 
might be expected to have, by appealing to the interests and the 
pride of England, a powerful effect in exciting the ambition of 
the people, and inducing them cheerfully to submit to the new 
burdens w^hich a war with France would impose upon them. 

Lord Berners's translation of Froissart was the first really 
important work printed in the English language, relating to 
modern history. It was almost the only accessible source of 
information respecting the local history of England, and her 
relations to the Continental ^powers, in the fourteenth century ; 
for though the scene is for the most part laid in France and 
Spain, 5^et it contains a pretty full account of the wars of 
Edward III. with the Scots, and of the insurrectionary move- 
ments in the time of Eichard II.; and, moreover, England was 
a direct party to almost every event which it narrates as belong- 
ing more immediately to the domestic history of France or 
of Spain. 

The entire subject, then, was one of special interest to the 
English people, and the extraordinary literary merit and the 
popular character of the work eminently fitted it, both to 
initiate Englishmen into a knowledge of some of the principal 
epochs of their own national life, and to px'omote a taste for 
historical reading and composition. It must, therefore, inde- 
jjendently of its philological v/orth, be considered as a work of 
great importance in English literary history, because it un- 
doubtedly contributed essentially to give direction to literary 
pursuits in England, and thus to lay the foundation of an entire 
and very prominent branch of native literature. 

It was soon followed by a considerable number of new 
English histories, such as those of Hall and Fabian, and by 
editions and continuations of earlier annalists, as, for example, 

K K 



498 LOKD BEENERS'S FROISSAET Lect. XI, 

of Hardynge ; and we are therefore probably indebted for these, 
such as they are, and in some degree even for the more valuable 
compilation of Holinshed, to the impulse given to historical 
studies by the publication of Lord Berners's Froissart. 

The translation is executed with great skill ; for while it is 
faithful to the text, it adheres so closely to the English idiom 
that it has altogether the air of an original work, and, with the 
exception of here and there a single phrase, it would not be 
easy to find a passage which exhibits decisive internal evidence 
of having been first composed in a foreign tongue. 

The account of the origin of the great schism in the four- 
teenth century is as follows : — 

Anon after the dethe of the pope Gregory, the cardynalles drew 
them into the conclaue, in the palays of saynt Peter. Anone after, as 
they were entred to chose a pope, acordyng to their vsage, such one as 
shuld be good and profytable for holy churche, the romayns assembled 
the togyder in a great nombre, and came into the bowrage of saynt 
Peter : they v,^ere to the nombre of xxx. thousand what one and other, 
in the entent to do ynell, if the mater went nat accordynge to their 
appetytes. And they came oftentymes before the conclaue, and sayd, 
Harke, ye sir cardynalles, delyuer you atones, and make a pope ; ye 
tary to longe ; if ye make a romayne, we woll nat chaung him ; but yf 
ye make any other, the romayne people and counsayles woll nat take 
hym for pope, and ye putte yourselfe all in aduentnre to be slayne. 
The cardynals, who were as than in the danger of the romayns, and 
herde well those wordes, they were nat at their ease, nor assured of 
their lyues, and so apeased them of their yre as well as they mj'-ght 
with fayre wordes ; but somoche rose the felony of the romayns, y* 
suche as were next to y<^ conclaue, to thentent to make the cardynalles 
afrayde, and to cause them to codiscende the rather to their opinyons, 
brake vp the dore of the conclaue, whereas the cardynalles were. 
Than the cardynalles went surely to haue been slayne, and so fledde 
away to saue their lyues, some one waye and some another ; but the 
romayns were nat so content, but toke them and put them togyder 
agayn, whether they wolde or nat. The cardynalles than «eynge the- 
selfe in the daunger of the romayns, and in great parell of their lyues, 
agreed among themsclfe, more for to please the people than for any 
deuocyon ; howbeit, by good electyon they chase an holy man, a car- 
dynall of the romayne nacion, whome pope Vrbayne the fyfle had 



Lect. XL LORD BEENEES'S FEOISSAET 499 

made cardynall, and lie was called before, the cardynall of saynt Peter. 
This electjon pleased greatly y^ romayns, and so this good man had all 
the ryghtes that belonged to the papalite ; howebeit he lyued nat but 
thre dayes after, and I shall shewe you why. The romayns, who de- 
syred a pope of their owne nacion, were so ioyfull of this newe pope, 
y* they toke hym, Avho was a hundred yere of age, and sette hym on a 
whyte mule, and so ledde him vp and doune through j^ cytie of Rome, 
exaltyng him, and shewyng ho^ve they had vaquesshed the cardynals, 
seyng they had a pope romayn accordyng to their owne ententes, in so 
moclie that the good holy man was so sore traueyled that he fell syck, 
and so dyed the thyrde daye, and Avas buryed in the churche of saynt 
Peter, and there he lyethe. — Reprint of 1812, vol. i. pp. 510, 511. 

Of the dethe of this pope, the cardynalles were right sorowfuU, for 
they saw well howe the mater shulde nat goo well to passe : for they 
had thought if y* pope had lyued, to haue dissimuled amonge the 
romayns for two or thre yeres, and at the laste to haue brought the see 
apostolyke into some other place than at Rome, at Napoles, or at 
Gennes, out of the daunger of the romayns : but y° dethe of the pope 
brake their purpose. Than the cardynalles went agayne into the con- 
claue in greater dauger than they were in before, for y® romayns assem- 
bled them togyder agayne before the conclaue, and made semblant to 
breke it vp, and to slee them all, if they dyde nat chose a pope acordyng 
to their myndes, and cryed to the cardynalles, and sayd, Sirs, aduyse 
yowe well : if ye delyuer vs a pope romayne we be content, or els we 
woll make your heedes reeder than your liattes be : suche wordes and 
manasshes abasshed greatly y® cardynals, for they hadde rather a dyed 
confessours than martyrs. Than to brynge themselfe out of that daun- 
ger and parell, they made a pope, but he was none of the colledge of 
cardynals, he was archbysshop of Bare, a great clerke, who greatly had 
traueyled for the welthe of holy churche; with his promocyon of 
popalyte, the romayns were apeased, for the cardynall of Genne j)ut 
out his heed out at a wyndowe of the conclaue, and sayd on hygh to y® 
people of Rome, Sirs, apease 3^ou, for you haue a pope romayne, and 
that is Bartylmewe cles Angles, archbysshop of Bare : the people aun- 
swered all with one voyce, than Ave be content ; the same archebysshoppe 
was nat as than at Rome, I thynke he was in Napoles. Than he Avas 
incontynent sent for, of the Avhiche tydynges he Avas ryght glad, and so 
came to Rome ; and at his comyng there Avas great feest made to hym ; 
and so he had all the ryghtes that parteyned to the papalyte, and Avas 
called Vrban the sixt of that name : the romayns had great ioy : his 
creacyon AA^as signified to all the churches of cristentie, and also to 



500 LORD BERNEES'S FROISSART Lect. XI. 

emperonrs, kynges, dulces, and erles ; and the cardynalles sent worde to 
all their frendes, that he was chosen by good and trewe electyon ; how- 
beit, some of them repented them after, that they had spoken so largely 
in the mater. This pope renounced all graces gyuen before, and so 
dyuers departed fro their countres and places, and went to Eome to 
hane grace. — Vol. i. p. 511. 

It hath ben long sithe I spake of holy church ; now I wyll retourne 
therto, the mater requyreth it. Ye haue Avell herde here before, howe 
by the exortacyon of the romayns, the cardynalles, who as than raygned, 
to apease the people of Home, who Avere greatly moiied against the, 
made a pope of the archbysshoprike of Bari, called before Bartylmewe 
des Angles : he receyned the papalyte, and was called Vrbayne the sixe, 
and so opyned grace as the vsage was. Thentencyon of dyuers of y® 
cardynals was, y*^ whan they mj^ght se a better hour and tyme, they 
wolde agayn retourne to their election, bycause this pope was nat pro- 
fytable for them, nor also to the church as they said, for he was a 
fumisshe man and malincolyous ; so that wha he sawe hymselfe in 
prosperyte and in puyssance of the papalyte, and that dyuers kynges 
cristned were ioyned to him, and wrote to him, and dyde put them 
vnder his obeysaunce, whereof he waxed proude and worked all on 
heed, and wolde haue taken away fro y^ cardjaials dyuers of their 
rightes and olde customes, the whiche greatly displeased them : and so 
they spake togyder, and ymagined howe he was nat well worthy to 
gouerne the Vv'orlde ; wherfore they purposed to choose another pope, 
sage and discrete, by whom the churche shulde be well gouerned. To 
this purpose the cardynals putte to all their payne, and specially he y* 
Avas after chosen to be pope : thus all a somer they wer in this pur- 
pose ; for they that entended to make a newe pope durst nat shewe their 
myndes generally, bycause of the romayns ; so that in the tyme of the 
vacacyon in the courte, dyuers cardynals departed fro Eome, and went 
about Rome to sport the in dyuers places at their pleasure. And pope 
Vrbane went to another cytie called Tj^eulle, and ther he lay a long 
season, in this vacacion tyme, whiche myght nat longe endure : for at 
Eome ther were many clerkes of sudrie places of the worlde, abydinge 
for graces, the whiche Avas promysed to dyuers of them. Than the 
cardynals all of one acorde assembled togyder, and their voyces rested 
on sir Eobert of Genesue, somtyme sonne to the erle of Genesue. His 
first promocyon was, he was bysshoppe of Therouene, and after bys- 
shoppe of Cambrey, and he Avas called cardynal of Genesue. At this 
election Avere the most parte of the cardynals, and he was called Cle- 
ment. — p. 547. 



Lect. XL moke's life of RICHARD III. 501 

Lord Berners's orthograpliy is irregular and confused; but- 
this is probably, in a considerable degree, the fault of he 
printers, who at that time were generally Germans or Dutch- 
men, little acquainted with English. His syntax is marked by 
archaisms, such as the use of the form in -th in the third per- 
son singular present indicative, and not unfrequently in the 
plural and in the imperative ; and his style, like that of other 
secular compositions up to this period, is much less advanced in 
philological development than the diction of contemporaneous 
theological literature, or, with the exception, of an inflection or 
two, even than that of Pecock, who lived three quarters of a 
century earlier. The difference, hov/ever, between Lord Ber- 
ners and Fisher, from whom I have given an extract, is not 
wholly owing to the superior culture of the theological dialect, 
but partly to the fact that Lord Berners w^'ote in advanced life. 
His style, though more idiomatic than most of the productions 
of Caxton's press, had probably been formed by the perusal of 
those works, and the long years he had spent in camp and 
council had allowed him no leisure to keep up with the later 
philological improvement of his native tongue. 

There is another historical work of the first half of the 
sixteenth century, the style of which exhibits a later phase of 
the language than Lord Berners's Froissart, or than any other 
secular prose composition of its own period: I refer to the 
celebrated Life of Eichard IIL, ascribed to Sir Thomas More, 
which first appeared anonytnously in Grafton's edition of 
Hardynge's Chronicle, printed in 1543.* In this edition it was, 
in all probability, modernized to the standard of the times, and 
I strongly suspect that this process was carried farther still by 
Eastell, who published More's works in 1557. Eastell, indeed, 
complains that the text, as given by Grafton in Hard}mge, and 
in Hall's Chronicle, is ' very muche corrupte in many places, 
Bometyme hauyng lesse, and sometime hauing more, and altered 
in wordes and whole sentences : muche varying from the copie 

* See First Series, Lectiire VI. p. 124. 



502 SIR THOMAS MORE Lect. XI. 

of his own hand, by which thys is printed ;' but I find it difficult 
to believe that either the orthography or the syntax of Eastell's 
edition is that of the year 1513, when the work is alleged f/^ 
have been ^written,' though left 'unfinished/* 

Although the historical value of this work is questionable, it is 
of much philological importance, because it is indisputably the 
best English secular prose which had yet been written. The excel- 
lence of its style is such as an Englishman in that age could have 
attained only by a familiar acquaintance with the more advanced 
diction of the theological literature of the English language. 
This acquaintance More certainly possessed in a high degree, but 
his own controversial writings are inflamed by a passion which 
destroyed his mastery over self, and betra3^ed him, not only into 
hasty and violent expression, but into a confusion of thought 
which is remarkable in a man otherwise so clear-headed.f 

More became a madman the moment he approached the 
question of religious reform.^ He wished to have it engraved 

* See Longer Notes and Illustrations, I., at the end of tliis lecture. 

t A striking instance of this will be found in the First Series, Lecture XXVI. 
p. 581. 

I His opponents declared that he delighted in worrying those unsound in the 
faith, and that, not content with the torture scientifically applied, in pursuance of 
his orders, by the regular professors of that art attached to the prisons, he set 
up an amateur inquisition in his own garden, where he used to tie persons sus- 
pected of heresy to a tree, which he jocosely called the Tree of Life, and have 
them soundly whipped, after which he accompanied them to the Tower to see 
them racked secundum artem. All this More denies, and it is fair to let him 
have the benefit of his traverse in his own words. ' Dyuers of them,' says he, 
' haue sayd that of suche as were in my howse whyle I was chauncellour, I vsed 
to examyne them wyth turmentes, causynge them to be bouden to a tre in my 
gardyn, and there pituously beten. * * * For of very trouth, albe it that 
for a great robbery or a heyghnouse murder, or sacryledge in a chyrche, wyth 
caryenge away the pyxe wyth the blessed sacrament, or vylanously castynge it 
out, I caused some tyme such thynges to be done by some ofFycers of the marshals/ 
or of some other pr3'sos wyth whyche orderynge of them by theyr well deserued 
payne, & wythout any greate hurte that afterwarde sholde stycke by them, 
I founde out and repressed many suche desperate wreches, as ellys had not fayled 
to haue gone ferther abrode, «& to haue done to many good folke a gi'et deale 
mych more harme ; yet though I so dyd i theucs, murderers, and robbers of 
chyrches, and notwytlistandyiigc also that hcrctyJccs he yet mych worse then al they, 
yet sauyng ouely theyr sure kcpynge, I neuer dyd els cause any such thyng to be 



Lect. XL SIE TnOMAS MOEE 503 

on Lis tombstone that he was 'Furibus, Homicidis, Hcereticisque 
molestuS)^ the scourge of Thieves, Murderers, and Heretics, 
capping the climax with the heretic, as the greatest malefactor 
of the three. But More is not the only public functionary 
who has desired that his funeral monument should perpetuate 
the infamy of his most criminal abuses of power.* 

We ought not to expect to find, in the controversial writings of 
a man inspired by such furious passions, models of elegance or 
correctness of style, and accordingly it is only in the Life of 
Eichard III. that More seems to deserve the praise so often 
bestowed upon him as one of the first great English prose 
writers, f 

More's Life of Eichard IIL is found not only in the complete 
edition of his works published in 1557, but in Hardynge, Hall, 
and Holinshed. It is, therefore, readily accessible, and it has 
been so often quoted as to be in some degree familiar to all 
students of English literature. I prefer, therefore, to illustra,te 
his style by an extract from some of his less known writings ; 
and I select, for that purpose, the rarest of them all, the 



done to any of them all in all my lyfe.' — The Apologye of syr Thomas More, 
knyght, 1533, fs. 195, 196 (Collected Works, edition of 1557, p. 901). He then 
proceeds to state two exceptions where he admits that he applied corporal 
chastisement, one to ' a chylde and a seruaxint ' in his own house, for speaking 
and teaching ' rngracyoiise heresye agaynst the blessed sacrament of the aulter,* 
and another where the same discipline was administered to a half-insane person 
for gross indecency of behaviour at public worship. He proceeds : ' And of all 
that euer came in my hande for heresy, as helpe me Grod, sauynge as I sayd the 
sure keping of them, and yet not so sure neyther but that George Constantyne 
eoulde stele awaye ; ellys had neuer any of them any strype or stroke gyue them, 
so mych as a fylyppe on the forhed.' More's method of ' sure keping ' of persons 
charged with heresy, it appears, was to confine them in the stocks in his garden, 
where the inconvenience they endured from exposure to the weather, and from the 
painftd mode by which they were secured, was, of itself, a torture as inhuman as 
the infliction of the rod. Upon the whole, then, his own evidence convicts him 
of being an imcharitable hater and a cruel persecutor of those who differed from 
hira in rehgious opinion, 

'•' James Buchanan is said to have expressed the wish that the word *Le- 
COMPTON ' might be carved on the slab which should cover his grave. 

t See, on the authorship of this work, First Series, Lecture VI. p. 124. 



504 SIK THOMAS MORE Lect. XI. 

unpaged leaf between pp. 1138 and 1139 of Eastell's edition, 
wMch. is wanting in very many copies : — 

After tliat sir Thomas More hadde caused to be printed this laste 
booke (intitled : the answer to the first parte of the poysoned boke, 
which a namelesse heretike hath named the supper of the lord) he wrote 
and caused to bee printed in the ende thereof (after certaine correccions 
of faultes escaped in the printyng thereof) this that foUoweth : 

Sir Thomas More knighte 
to the christen reader. 

After these faultes of the printer escaped in this boke, I shall not 
let, good reders, to gene you like warnynge of one faute of myne owne, 
escaped me in my booke laste put forth of the debellacion of Salem and 
Byzance. In y® first chapter Avherof (Numero. 933. and in the seconde 
colume) cancell and putte out one of those ouersightes that I lay to y® 
pacifier, in those ix lines, of which the first is the ii lino of y^ same 
colume, and the last is the 19 (the first of which 9 lines beginneth 
thus : Moreouer &c.). For of trouthe not the pacifier but myselfe was 
ouersene in that place wyth a litle hast in misse remebring one worde 
of his. For whereas he sayth in the parson of Byzance, in the third 
lefe of Salem and Bizance : ' I wil cause it to be writen into this 
dyaloge worde for worde as it is come to my handes : ' I forgate wha I 
answered it that he said, ' as it is come,' and toke it as though he 
sayde ' as it commeth to myne handes.' 

And therfore albeit that I haue knowen many that haue red it, of which 
I neuer found any that found it, yet sythe it happed me lately to looke 
theron, and find mine ouersight my self, I wold in no wise leue it, 
good reder, vnreformed. Nor neuer purpose while I Hue, Avhersoeuer I 
may perceiue, either mine aduersary to saye well, or my selfe to haue 
saide otherwyse, to let for vs both indifferently to declare and saye, 
the truth. 

And surely if they wold vse yeself same honeste plalne truthe 
towarde me, you shold sone see, good reders, all our contecions ended. 
For than shold you se, that like as I haue not letted after mine apologye 
to declare y* Tindale hadde somewhat amended and asswaged in one 
point his formar euill assercions concerning satisfaccion, so shouJde he 
confesse the trouth that I had truely touched him, and that hymselfe 
had sore erred, as well in the remenat therof, as in all his other 
heresies. And than also, like as I let not here, for the pacifiers part, to 
djgclare myself ouersene with hast ia this one poit, so should he not 



Lect. XT. WILLIAM TYNDALB 505 

let well and honestly to say the trontli on the tether side, and cofesse 
himself very far oiiersene w* log leisure, in al the remenant besyde. 
I saye not in all that he saith, but in all that is debated betwene vs. 

I Avote wel y^ best horse wer he v/hich wer so sure of fote, that 
runne he neuer so flist wold neuer in his life neither fall nor stuble. 
But sithe we can fyiide none so sure, that horse is not much to be mis- 
liked, which that with courage and prycking forth in hast, happing for 
all hys fo-\\Te fete sometime to catch a fall, getteth vp again lightly by 
himself w*oute touch of spurre or any check of y® bridle. No nor 
yet that horse to be caste awaye neither, that getteth vp agayne apace 
w* the checke of them bothe. Nowe lyke as with the best kinde can 
I not compare, so of the third sorte at the least wise will I neuer fayle 
to be, that is to wyt, ryse and reforme my selfe, whan any manne shewe 
me my faulte. And as nere as I can wyll I serche them, and as sone as I 
spye them, before anye man controlle the, aryse, and as I now do, mine 
own selfe reforme the. Which kynd is, you wotte, well nexte vnto the 
best. But yet on the tother side, of all myne aduersaries coulde I neuer 
hitherto fynde any one, but whan he catcheth once a fall, as ech of them 
hath caught full manye, there lyeth he still tumblyng and toltryng in 
myre, and neyther spurre nor brydle ca one ynche preuayle, but as 
though they were not fallen in a puddle of dirte, but rubbed and layde 
in htter vnder the manger at theyr ease, they whyne and they byte, and 
they kick and they spurne at him that would help them vp. And y* 
is yet a fourth kynde, the woorst, ye wotte well., that canne be. 

This extract is a fair average specimen of the modesty, can- 
dour, charity, refinement, and logic of Sir Thomas More in his 
controversial vv^ritings. His Treatise on the Passion, written 
during his last imprisonment, and interrupted by his depriva- 
tion of pen, ink, and paper, b}^ order of the king, is in better 
temper, but little superior in style or a,bility to this frag- 
ment. His fame as an English v/riter must rest on the life of 
Eichard III., if, indeed, that is his v/ork, and his claim to our 
sympathy as a man finds a better support in his family letters 
and his last hours, than in his voluminous theological discus- 
sions, or in his administration of his spiritual jurisdiction. 

More's most conspicuous antagonist was Tyndale, whose 
translation of the New Testament, first published in 1526, has 
eserted a more marked influence upon English philology than 



506 THE EEFORMATION , Lect. XL 

any other native work between the ages of Chaucer and of 
Shakespeare. I have, in the twenty-eighth lecture of my first 
series, and elsewhere in the same volume*, so fully discussed 
the merits and importance of this translation that I need not 
again enter upon it ; but I append to this lecture the eighth 
chapter of Matthew from Tyndale's translation, edition of 1526, 
reprinted at Andover, from Bagster, in 1837. For further 
illustration, I subjoin the singular translation of the same 
chapter, executed by Sir John Cheke about the year 1550. 

When we consider the extensive circulation which the works 
of Wycliffe and other reformers had for a long period enjoyed, 
and the progress which the dialect of theology had made, ib 
seems remarkable that, at the commencement of the reforma- 
tory movement, there should have been found in England so 
few men capable of maintaining its principles by argument. 
But the brutal and malignant despotism of Henry VIIL had so 
effectually put down the spirit of free inquiry in the earlier 
years of his reign, that when he himself thought it convenient 
to throw off allegiance to the see of Eome, there was a want of 
theological talent and learning in his dominions, which had to 
be supplied from Continental sources. Hence, very many of 
the instructors of the English people in the principles of the 
Reformation were of Grerman, Dutch, or Swiss birth, and the 
English reformers themselves had often resorted to the Conti- 
nent for study, or for security from persecution. These foreign 
teachers generally wrote in Latin, and when their writings 
were translated, paraphrased, or epitomized for the edification 
of the laity, they brought with them many new words and 
idioms — a special phraseology, in fact, suited to the discussion 
of the doctrines they advanced. At that period of universal 
religious excitement, the study of theology was, to the man of 
liberal culture, just what the study of political history and 
public economy is in our day — a necessary complement to the 

* See First Series, pp, 113, 171, 383, 625, 627, and Illustrations II. and III. at 
tlie end of this lecture. 



Lect. XI. CLASSICAL LEARNINO 507 

special learning required for the exercise of his particular pro- 
fession, or the performance of his general duties as a member 
of the body politic. Every man of education, every man who 
read at all in fact, read theological books, and consequently 
there was, almost at once, a very considerable accession of Latin 
words to the vocabulary of English. 

The study of classical literature was in England rather a 
consequence, than an efficient cause, of the Keformation. In 
G-ermany, France, and Italy, the case had been otherwise. 
There, the revival of Grreek, and especially of Latin secular 
philology, preceded and prepared the way for the diffusion of 
works of religious controversy. The literature of Gfreece 
enlightened and liberalized the minds of schola^rs, and the 
speech of Eome furnished a vehicle, a universal language, by 
means of which the works of a free inquirer in one country 
could be circulated in another, without the delay of translation, 
or the expense of getting up new editions ; while, in England, 
the first step necessarily was to make the treatise intelligible 
by an English version. 

There is no doubt that the desire of reading in their native 
form new works, which at that time were exciting a profound 
interest throughout the civilized world, and of consulting the 
original texts of the sacred writings, and of the fathers of the 
church, was one of the principal incentives to the study of 
classical lore, which had hitherto made little progress in 
England.* The versions of classic authors, printed by Caxton, 
were made at second hand from the French, with the exception 
of Cicero's De Amicitia, which was translated from the original 
by Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester. 

Even the universities afforded but slender facilities for the 
acquisition of classical Latin and Grreek, and the G-reek pro- 

^' Sir Thomas More quotes Tyiidale as making this extraordinary assertion: 
*Eem ember ye not howe in our o-vioie time, of al that taught grammar in England 
not one understode ye latine tong ? ' More denies that the fact is apposite as an 
illustration for the purpose for which Tyndale had used it, but so far from dis- 
puting its truth, he impliedly admits it Workes, p. 723 d. 



508 JIODEllN GRAiniAES Lect. XL 

fessorship at Cambridge was not founded until about 1540. 
Hence the few Englishmen who desired to pursue such studies 
were obliged to repair to the Continental schools for that pur- 
pose. It is true that the transfer of instruction from the 
monasteries to public schools — a step absolutely indispensable 
to the progress of classic philology — had begun with the cen- 
tury. Lilly, the famous grammarian, v/ho had learned Greek 
in the Levant, became the first master of St. Paul's School in 
1500; and about twenty-two grammar schools were established 
within as many years a-fter that date. Cardinal Wolsey exerted 
his pov/erfal influence in support of a more liberal system of 
education than had been pursued at the conventual seminaries ; 
but his plans of improvement met most violent opposition from 
the jealousy of the monastic orders, and from their reluctance 
to surrender the monopoly of education, which had proved so 
lucrative a source of income, and at the same time so efficient 
a means of securing political influence. Besides this, the new 
schools had to contend with the superstitious prejudices of the 
clergy, most of whom both thought all heathen literature pro- 
fane and blasphemous, and focared danger from the creeping 
in of heresies in consequence of the general diffusion of an 
acquaintance with the New Testament in the Grreek text. 

For these reasons, classical literature long remained at a low 
ebb, and it can hardly be said to have exerted an appreciable 
influence upon the English language much before the middle of 
the reign of Henry VIII. 

The first immediate result of this stud}^ was naturally an 
increased attention to the grammar of the vernacular, and a 
disposition to assimilate its theory to that of the ancient lan- 
guages. Hitherto, neither English, nor even French, is known 
to have possessed dictionaries, grammars, or written rules or 
philological helps of any sort.* There existed, indeed, several 

* English was ordered to bo tauglit in the common schools in the fourteenth 
century, and in a passage already referred to, Tyndale and Sir Thomas More speak 
of grammar-schools, the masters of which were ignorant of Latin. Here, then, is 



Lect. XI. palsgeaye's grammar 509 

Anglo-Latin glossaries and vocabularies, but these seem to have 
been intended to facilitate the study of conventual Latin rather 
than to serve to explain the meaning of English words.* So 
far as yet appears, the first grammatical treatise in the English 
language — the earliest evidence that any Englishman had ever 
thouo-ht of subjecting any modern tongue to the discipline of 
philological principle and precept — is Palsgrave's remarkable 
French grammar, composed for the use of the Princess Mary, 
and printed in 1530. This presents a very full and complete 
view of French accidence, syntax, and idiomatic structure, with 
a copious vocabulary. As it is written in English and constantly 
illustrates French grammar by comparison with English, it is of 
high value as a source of information upon the authorized forms 



a period of a century and a half, during whicli English \7as scliolastically taught. 
How was this practicable without accidences or grammatical manuals of some 
kind? Of all literary products, children's school-hooks are the most perishable. 
Spelling-books fifty years old are as rare as Caxtons, and the present existence of 
a real horn-hook is as questionable as that of the unicorn. An English grammar, 
of Chaucer's time, or Pecock's, or even of Tyndale's boyhood, would be a trottvaille, 
that would well repay a half-year's search among mouldering manuscripts. 

* The author of the compilation called Promptorius or Promptorium Parvu- 
lorum, Way's very valuable edition of which is one of the most important 
contributions ever made to English historical etymology, expressly states that he 
prepared the work for the use of young ecclesiastics, 'qui nunc ad usum 
clericalis loquele velut cervi ad fontes aquarum desiderant sed Latina vocabula 
ignorantes,' etc. 

It is an observation of some interest with respect to the permanence of local 
dialects, v/hich many modern linguists so strongly insist upon, that the author 
declares: 'comitatus tamen Northfolchie modum loquendi solum sum secutus, 
quem sohmi ab infancia didici, et solotenus plenius perfectiusque cognovi,' and 
again, at the close of the preface : ' Explicit preambulum in libellum predictum, 
secundum vulgarem modum loquendi orientalium Anglorum.' This preface is 
dated in 1440. Eorby's vocabulary of East-Anglia gives us the peculiarities of 
the colloquial dialect of the same counties in 1830. There are, it is true, some 
coincidences between the two word-lists, but he must be a philologer of easy 
faith, who can find in the comparison of them satisfactory evidence that the 
special dialect of the Orientales Angli of 1440 was identical with that of the 
East-Anglians of 1830. It must however be admitted, for the comfort of be- 
lievers in the immutability of vulgar speech, that the Chronicle of Capgrave, a 
Korfolk man who flourished in the first half of the fifteenth century, presents 
many more points of resemblance with the modern dialect of that county than 
^e to be found in the Promptorium. 



510 CLASSICAL LEAIlNINa Lect. XI. 

of our own language at that period ; and, though intended solely 
for instruction in a foreign tongue, the study of it could not 
have failed to throw much light on the genieral principles of 
English syntax, and thus to contribute, in an important degree-, 
to the improvement of English philology. Palsgrave's views of 
the logical and syntactical structure of language were taken 
from one of the Grreek grammars then in vogue. He accordingly 
applied the doctrines of ancient grammar to his exposition of 
the theory of the French, and indirectly of the English, and 
his work did much to introduce the grammatical nomenclature 
of the Latin into English, and to establish philological opinions 
more in harmony with the structure of ancient inflected, than of 
modern indeclinable, languages.* 

The inducements which the writings of G-erman and Swiss 
and Dutch Eeformers suggested for acquiring a knowledge of 
Hebrew and Grreek and classical Latin, gave a great impulse to 
the study of the humanities, as they were called. Ancient 
authors were made comparatively familiar, by translations whose 
vocabulary and style were marked by Latinisms ; and the diction 
of English writers, who were able to read those authors in the 
original, was, consciously or unconsciously, enriched by borrowed 
phrases and single terms, needed to express the new ideas and 
new sentiments that were pouring in from so many sources. 
Thus the profane literature of Grreece and Eome contributed, 
both directly and indirectly, to enlarge the stock of English 

* The most remarkable peculiarity of Palsgrave's English is, that where an ad- 
jective belonging to the technical nomenclature of grammar folloAvs its noun, he 
commonly makes its plural in s ; thus : verbes acty ve5 parsonalles, vcrbes dcpo- 
nentes or comens, pronounes interrogative^, &e. &c. We have still ciu'rent in 
English a few examples of adjectives inflected for the plural, but they are cases 
where the noun has been so long dropped from the phrase, that it has been for- 
gotten. Thus, in 'Know all men by these presents,' ^presents is an adjective, 
agreeing with letters understood; per has littcras presentcs. Premises, in deeds of 
conveyance, is also an adjective, its noun being understood. 

Palsgrave was, so far as I know, the first writer who used a, figured pronuncia- 
tion, which he employs both to convey the sounds of the letters, and to show how 
the liaisons are made. Thus he writes : 

Eegnans par droit, heureux et glorieux, 
Eeuavupardroatevrevzeglorievz. 



Lect. XL SKELTON 511 

words, and the vocabulary grew with constantly increasing 
rapidity. 

It is fortunate that Tyndale's translation of the New Testa- 
ment, first published in 1526, was executed before the traditional 
sacred dialect, handed down from the time of Wycliffe, was yet 
much affected by this flood of Latinisms, which, a few years 
later, produced so marked a change in the English language. 
The Rhemish version shows us something of what we should 
have had in the place of our present translation, had Tyndale's 
work been postponed a short time longer. An English trans- 
lator of the next generation would not have thought of studying 
Wycliffe, but would have taken the current English of his time 
as the standard of style, and given us a text perhaps a little 
more accurate than that of Tyndale, but altogether inferior in 
force, beauty, and purity of expression. 

But let us turn for a moment to the poetic literature of the 
reign of Henry VIII. It is little to the credit of modern taste 
and refinement, that so gross and repulsive an author as Skelton 
should be better known to students of old English literature, 
than the graceful and elegant Surrey and Wyatt. Puttenham 
well characterizes Skelton as a ^rude rayling rimer,' and it is 
not too much to say of him, that while he has all the coarseness 
of Swift, he does not atone for it by a spark of the genius of 
Chaucer. Most of Skelton's works appeared in the time of 
Henry VIII., but he seems to have had a reputation for 
learning in his earlier youth ; for Caxton, in the preface to an 
edition of the ^neid which he had himself translated from a 
French version, speaks of Skelton as one * knowne for suffycj^ent 
to expoune and Englysshe every dyffyculte that is therein;' and 
at a later day, when he was tutor to Prince Henry, afterwards 
King Henry VIII., he was complimented by Erasmus as * Britan- 
nicarum literarum decus et lumen.' It is more to his classical 
scholarship than to his poetical works that he owed his original 
literary reputation, and though his translations of some ancient 
authors, which are still preserved in manuscript, would be a 
valuable contribution to English philology, the loss of his 



512 STEPHEN HAWES Lect. XL 

rhymes would be but a trifling injury to Englisb literature. 
His learning certainly did little for the improvement of his 
English style, and we may say of his diction in general, that all 
that is not vulgar is pedantic. 

Stephen Hawes, who flourished in the reigDS of Henry VII, 
and Henry VIII., was the author of the Passetyme of Pleasure 
and of several other poems, all popular in his time and all now 
deservedly forgotten. Warton thinks that he ^ added new 
graces to Lydgate's manner,' but these graces I am unable to 
discover, and I agree with Wright in the opinion, that in all 
respects his works are ' monuments of the bad taste of a bad 
ao-e.' They have, however, a certain philological interest, both 
on account of their versification, which, though far from melli- 
fluous, presents some improvements, and especially as showing 
the rapidity with which French and Latin words were now 
flowing into the language, and as illustrating that connection 
between rhymed verse and a Eomance voca>bulary, of which I 
have so often spoken. The fifth chapter of his dull allegory, 
the Passetyme of Pleasure, is entitled, ^How Science sent him 
fyrst to Gramer, v/here he was received by Dame Congruyte,' 

and is as follows : — 

1. 

The lady Gramer in all humbly wyse, 

Dyd me receyve into her goodly scoole ; 

To whose doctrine I dyd me advertise 

For to attayne, in her artyke poole, 

Her gyfted dewe, for to oppresse my doole ; 

To whom I sayde that I wold gladly lerne 

Her noble connynge, so that I myght desceme 

2. 
What that it is, and why that it v/as made ? 
To whych she answered than, in speciall, 
By cause that connynge shoulde not pale ne fade, 
Of every scyence it is originall, 
Whych doth us tech ever in general! 
In all good ordre to spekc directly, 
And for to wryte by true ortografy. 



Lect. XL STEPHEN HATTES 513 

s. 

Somtyme in Egypt reygned a noble kyng, 
Iclyped Evander, wliycli dyd well abounde 
In many vertues, especially in lernyng ; 
Whych bad a dougbter, tbat by ber study found 
To wryte true Latyn tbe fyrst pariyt ground. 
Wbose goodly name, as ber story sayes, 
Was called Carmentis in ber livyng dayes. 

4. 

Tbus in tbe tyme of olde antiquytie, 

Tbe noble pbylosopbers, wytb tlieyr wbole delygbte, 

For tbe comon prouftyte of all buraanite. 

Of tbe seven sciences for to knoAve tbe rygbt, 

Tbey studied many a long wynters nygbt, 

Ecbe after otber tbeyr partes to expresse, 

Tbys Avas tbeyr guyse to escbewe ydelnesse. 

5.- 
Tbe pomped carkes wytb foode dibcious 
Tbey dyd not feed, but to tbeyr sustinaunce ; 
Tbey folowed not tbeyre flesbe so yycious, 
But ruled it by prudent governaunce ; 
Tbey were content alway wytb suiEsaunce, 
Tbey coveyted not no worldly treasure, 
For tbey knewe tbat it nwgbt not endure, 

6. 
But nowe a dayes tbe contrary is used: 
To ■\Y}'nne tbe nion}^ tbeyr studyes be all set. 
Tbe commen profyt is often refused. 
For well is be tbat may tbe money get 
From bis nej'gbbour wytbout any let. 
Tbey tbynke notbynge tbey sball from it pas, 
Wban all tbat is sball be toiurned to was. 

7. 
Tbe bryttel flesbe, noui-isber of vyces, 
Under tbe sbadowe of evyll slogardy, 
Must need baunte tbe carnall debces ; 
Wban tbat tbe brayne, by corruj)t glotony, 
Up so downe is tourned tban contrary. 
• Frayle is tbe bodye to grete unbappynes, 
Wban tbat tbe bead is fall of dronkennes. 
L L 



514 STEPHEN HAWES Lect. XI. 

8. 

So doo they now ; for they nothyng prepence 
Howe cruell deth doth them sore ensue. 
They are so blynded in worldly necligence, 
That to theyr merite they wyll nothyng renewe 
The seven scyences, theyr slouth to eschewe ; 
To an others profyt they take now no keepe, 
But to theyr o^vne, for to eate, drynke, and sleepe. 

9. 
And all thys dame Gramer told me every dele, 
To whom I herkened wyth all my diligence ; 
And after thys she taught me ryght well 
Fyrst my Donet and then my accidence. 
I set my mynde wyth percying influence 
To lerne her scyence, the fyrst famous arte, 
Eschewyng ydlenes and layeng all aparte. 

10. 
Madame, quod I, for as much as there be 
Eight partes of speche, I would knowe ryght fajme, 
What a noune substantive is in hys degre. 
And wherefore it is so called certayne ? 
To whom she answered ryght gentely agayne, 
Sayeng alway that a noune substantyve 
Might stand wythout helpe of an adjectyve. 

11. 

The Latyn worde whyche that is referred 
Unto a thynge whych is substancyall, 
For a noune substantyve is wel averred, 
And wyth a gender is declynall ; 
So all the eyght partes in generall 
Are Laten wordes, annexed properly 
To every speche, for to speke formally. 

12. 

And gramer is the fyrst foundement 
Of every science to have construccyon : 
Wlio knewe gramer wythout impediment 
Shoulde perfytely have intelleccion 
Of a ly tterall cense and moralyzacion. • 
To construe every thynge ententifly. 
The worde is gramer wol and ordinatly. 



Lect. XL SURBET AND ^TYATT 615 

13. 

By worde the world was made orygynallj, 

The hye Kyrige sayde, it was made incontinent ; 

He dyd commaunde, al was made shortly. 

To the world the worde is sentencious judgemente. 

I marked well dame Gramers sentement, 

And of her than I dyd take my lycence, 

Goynge to Logyke wyth all my dylygence. 

In these thirteen stanzas are ninety-one lines, of which sixty- 
six end in rhyming words of Latin or French origin, and in 
stanzas fifth, eleventh, and twelfth, not a single rhyme is of 
Anglo-Saxon derivation. 

The poems of Surrey and of Wyatfc, who flourished in the 
latter part of the reign of Henry YIIL, are in a very different 
strain, both of thought and of language. They are of import- 
ance in the history of English, from the great advance they show 
upon the diction of other versifiers of the period ; and in the 
history of literature, as proving that Italian poetry was now be- 
ginning to assume somewhat the same influence upon English 
verse which French had exercised a hundred and fifty years 
before. There was, however, this difference. The French 
poets not only banished the native rhythms and dictated the 
forms of English poetry, but they contributed very essentially 
to the creation of a new poetic diction, by introducing new 
words and grammatical idioms, while the Italian poets, though 
supplying models of poetic composition and suggesting new 
metres and metrical combinations, added little or nothing to 
the vocabulary, and did not at all influence the syntax of 
English. 

Surrey — in imitation of the Italian poets who were striving 
to discard rhyme, as a barbarous corruption of the dignity of 
verse, and to restore the classic metres, or at least a system of 
versification founded exclusively on prosodical accent — trans- 
lated two books of Virgil's JEneid, in blank verse ; and this is 
said to be the first specimen of unrhymed poetry in the English 

L L 2 



516 BLANK VERSE Lect. XI. 

tongue. This Warton calls a * noble attempt to break the 
bondage of rh3^me/ and Eoger Ascham thinks that in the 
experiment Surrey was seeking ' the fayrest and ryghtest wa}^' 
But the versification of the translation is rugged and uneven, 
and, upon the whole, greatly inferior, in smoothness of flow and 
skill in melodious adaptation of words, to Surrey's own rhymed 
poems. A writer long accustomed to compose in rhyme, but 
who at last sets himself free from the restraints of consonance, 
is apt to make a bad use of his new found-liberty, and to 
convert it into too great prosodical license. This was the case 
with Surrey, whose blank verse is very often Ciuite undistinguish- 
able from common prose. 

The dialect of Surrey, and of Wyatt whose works very 
closely resemble the poems of Surrey, is much more modern 
than that of any preceding writer, and it is noticeable that we 
find in them a less frequent use of forms now obsolete than in 
even the prose authors of the same period. This is a singular 
fact, for in all literatures the diction of poetry inclines to 
archaism of expression ; and the departure of Surrey and Wyatt 
from the usual rule is perhaps to be explained by the circum- 
stance that they had no English precedents in the vein of 
poetry which they chose to pursue, and, consequently, no native 
models of a poetic diction consecrated to the utterance of the 
sentiments they wished to express. They therefore adopted the 
colloquial dialect of their time, which had discarded many in- 
flections and idioms still habitually retained in written literature 
whether prose or verse ; whereas, if they had employed poetic 
forms examples of which already existed in English, they could 
hardly have failed to follow their diction also. 

The poems of these authors have exercised a more important 
influence on the poetical dialect of the English language than 
has been generally supposed ; for their popularity — which was 
partly due to their adoption of a popular dialect — and their 
great merit, not only made them authoritative standards and 
models, but tended in a considerable degree to discourage the 



Lect. XL BISHOP LATIMER 517 

Study of older authors^ who now very soon began to be con- 
sidered as rude and barbarous. Although, therefore, Surrey and 
Wyatt did much to polish and refine the language of their art, 
yet they on the other hand deprived it of something of its 
force and energy, by lessening the authority, and consequently 
occasioning the neglect, of the great master whom Spenser, 
half a century later, was wise enough to hold to be at once the 
fountain and the reservoir of the English tongue. 

The sermons of Bishop Latimer, which belong to this period, 
are of much interest, because they are written in a very familiar 
style, and give us, perhaps, a better idea of the living speech ol 
educated men at that time than any other existing literary 
monument. The sermons of Latimer, and other works of 
similar linguistic character, serve well to show a truth which 
has but lately began to be recognized in philology: that though 
foreign-born words and new logical combinations of familiar 
words are generally introduced by written literature, yet syntac- 
tical and inflectional changes originate with the people, and are 
current in every-day speech some time before they are recog- 
nized as admissible in formal composition. Latimer's writings, 
reduced to the modern orthography, present scarcely more 
difficulty to a reader of our own time than a newspaper of this 
century ; but there are few prose or poetical works of that day 
belonging to the higher walks of literature, which are not much 
more archaic in their structure and vocabulary than these plain- 
spoken homilies. The following extracts are from the rare 
volume of sermons, seven in number, preached by Latimer 
before King Henry VIII. and his Court, in March and April, 
1549:— 

FROM SERMON II. 

I can not go to my boko for pore follces come vnto me, desirynge me 
that I wyll speake y* thejrr matters maye be heard. I trouble my Lord 
of Canterbury e, & beynge at hys house nowe and then I walke in the 
garden lokyng in my boke, as I canne do but httle good at it. But 
some thynge I muste nedes do to satisfye thys place. 



518 BISHOP LATIMER Lect. XL 

I am no soner in the garden and haue red a wliyle, but by and by 
commeth there some or other knocking at the gate. 

Anone cometh my man and sayth : Syr, there is one at the gate 
woulde speake wyth you. When I come there, then is it some or other 
that desireth me that I wyll speake that hys matter might be heard, & 
that he hath layne thys longe at great costes and charges, and can not 
once haue hys matter come to the hearing, but amog all other, one 
especially moued me at thys time to speake. 

Thys it is syr : A gentyhvoman came to me and tolde me, that a 
greate man kepeth certaine landes of hyrs from hyr and wilbe hyr 
tenaunte in the spite of hyr tethe. And that in a whole twelue moneth 
she coulde not gette but one daye for the hearynge of hyr matter, and 
the same daye when the matter shoulde be hearde, the greate manne 
broughte on hys syde a greate syghte of Lawyers for hys counsayle, 
the gentilwoman had but one ma of lawe : and the great man shakes 
him so, so that he ca [not] tell what to do, so that when the matter 
came to the poynte, the Judge was a meane to the gentylwoman that 
she wold let the great ma haue a quietnes in hyr Lande. I beseche 
your grace that ye -wyll loke to these matters. 

FROM SERMON III. 

Ther is a certen ma that shortely after my fyrst sermon, beyng asked 
if he had byn at y® sermon that day, answerd, yea : I praye you sayd 
he how lyked you him ? marye, sayd he, eue as I lyked hym alwayes, a 
sedicious felow. Oh Lord he pinched me there in dede, nay he had 
rather a ful byt at me. Yet I comfort myselfe with that, y* Christ hi 
selfe was noted to be a sturrer vp of the people agaist the Emperoure, 
and was contented to be called sedyciouse. 

It becommeth me to take it in good worthe, I am not better then he 
was. In the kynges dales y* dead is, a meanye of vs were called 
together before him to saye our myndes in certaine matters. In the 
ende one kneleth me downe, & accuseth me of sedycion, that I had 
preched sedyciouse doctryne. A heuy salutation, and a hard polt of 
such a mans doynge, as if I should name hym, ye woulde not thynke 
it. The kynge turned to me and saied : What sale you to that, syr ? 
Then I kneled do^vne, and turned me first to myne accuser, and 
required hym : 

Syv, what fourme of preachige would you appoynt me to preacho 
before a kynge ? 

Woulde you haue me for to preache nothynge as concerninge a Kynge 
in the Kynges sermo. Haue you any commissyon to apoynt me what I 
shal preache ? Besydes thys I asked hym dy tiers o there questyons, and 



Lect. XI. BISHOP LATIMER 519 

he would make no answer to none of tliem all. Pie had nothynge to 
saye. Then I turned me to the kynge, and submitted my selfe to hys 
grace and sayd : I neuer thoughte my selfe worthy, nor I neuer sued to 
be a preacher before youre grace, but I was called to it, and woulde be 
■\v}dling yf you mislyke me, to geue place to my betters. For I graut 
ther be a gret meany more worthie of the rome then I am. And if be 
so youre graces pleasure to allowe theym for preachers, I coulde be 
content to here theyr bokes after them. But if youre grace allowe me 
for a preacher, I would desyer your grace to geue me leue to dischardge 
my cociece. Geue me leue to frame my doctrine accordenge to mine 
audyece. I had byn a veri dolte to haue preached so at the borders of 
your realme as I prech before your grace. 

FEOJI THE SAJIE. 

"Wo worthe these giftes, they subuert iustyce etlerye where. Sequuntur 
retrihutiones. Some what was geue to the before, & they must nodes 
gyue somewhat again, for gyffegafe was a good felowe, this gyffegaife 
led the clen fro iustice. They folow giftes. A good felowe on a time 
had an other of hys frends to a breake faste, and sayed : Yf you wyll 
come you shall be Avelcome, but I tell you afore hande, you shall haue 
but sclender fare, one dish and that is all. What is that, saide he. A 
puddyne, and nothynge els. Mary, sayde he, you ca not please me 
better, of all mettes, that is for myne o-\vne toth. You may draw me 
round about the towne with a puddyng. 

These brybinge magistrates and iudges folow gyftes faster the the 
fellowe would folio we the puddynge. 

I am content to beare the title of sedition w* Esai. Thankes be to 
God, I am not alone, I am in no singularitie. Thys same man that 
layed sedition thus to my charge was asked an other tyme, whether he 
were at the sermon at Paules crosse ; he answered y* he was there, and 
beynge asked what newes there. Marye quod he, wonderfull newes, 
wee were ther cleane absolued, my mule and all hadde fuU absolution. 
Ye may se by thys, that he was such a one that rode on a mule, and 
that he was a gentylma. 

In dede hys mule was wyser then he, for I dare say, the mule neuer 
sclaundered the preacher. Oh what an vnhappy chaunce had thys 
Mule to carrye such an Asse vppon hys backe ! I was there at the 
sermon my sehe. In the end of his sermon he gaue a generaU abso- 
lution, and as farre as I remember, these, or such other lyke were hys 
wordes, but at the least I am sure, thys was hys meanynge. As 
manye as do knowledge your selfes to be synners, and confesso the 
same and standes not in defece of it, and hertely abhorreth it. 



520 BISHOP LATIMER Lect. XL 

and wyl beleve in y^ death of Christ, and be conformable tberunto, Ego 
absoluo vos, quod he. Now, saith thys getylman, hys mule was 
absolued. The preacher absolued but such as were sory and dyd 
repente. Bilyke then she dyd repente hyx stumblynge, hys Asse was 
wyser then he a greate deale. I speake not of worldely wysedome, for 
therin he is to wj^se, yea, so wyse, that wyse men maruayle howe 
he came trulye by the tenth part of that he hathe. But in wisdome 
which consisteth in rebus Dei, in rehus Salutis, in godlye matters, & 
pertayning to our saluacyo, in this wisedome he is as blynde as a bittel. 
Thei be Tanquam equus et mulus in quibiis non est intellectus ; Lyke 
horses and mules that haue no understandynge. 

If it were true that the mule repented hyr of hyr stumbljnig I 
thynke shee was better absolued then he. I pray God stop his mouthe, 
or els to open it to speake better, and more to hys glory. An other 
man quickned Avith a word I spoke (as he saied opprobriously agaynste 
the nobility that theyr childre dyd not set forthe Gods worde, but were 
vnpreachynge prelates) was offended wyth me. 

FROM SERMON VI. 

The arte of shutynge hath ben in tymes past much estemed in this 
realme, it is a gyft of God that he hath geuen vs to excell all other 
nacions wythall. It hath bene Goddes instrumente, whereby he hath 
gyue vs manye victories agaynste cure enemyes. But nowe we haue 
taken vp horynge in tounes, in steede of shutyng in the fyeldes, A 
wonderous thynge, that so excellente a gift of God shoulde be so lytle 
estemed. I desyer you my Lordes, even as y^ loue the honoure, and 
glory of God, and entende to remove his indignacion, let ther be sente 
fourth some proclimacion, some sharpe proclimacion, to the iustices of 
peace, for they do not their dutye. Justices now be no iustices, ther be 
manye good actes made for thys matter already. Charge them vp5 theyr 
allegiaunce y* this singular benefit of God maye be practised, and that 
it be not turned into bollyng, glossyng, and whoryng wythin the townes, 
for they be negligente in executyng these lawes of shutyng. 

In my tyme my poore father was as diligent to teach me to shote as 
to learne anye other thynge, and so I thynke other menue dyd theyr 
children. He taught me how to drawe, how to laye my bodye in my 
bowe, and not to draAve wyth stregth of amies, as other nacions do, 
but with strength of the bodye. I had my bowes boughte me ac- 
cordyng to my age & stregth ; as I encreased in them, so my bowes 
were made bigger and bigger, for men shal neuer shot well, excepte 
they be broughte vp in it. It is a goodly art, a holsome kynde of 



tECT. SI. SIR JOHN CHEKE 521 

exercise, much commended in phisike. Marsilius Ficinus, in hys 
boke de triplici vita (it is a greate while sins I red hym noAve), but I 
remebre he commendeth this kinde of exercise, and sayth that it 
wrestleth agaynste manye kyndes of diseases. In the renerece of God, 
let it be continued. 

Sir John Cheke, Professor of Grreek in the University of 
Cambridge, is perhaps the first Englishman in whose prose style 
the influence of a familia^rity with classical literature is fully 
and clearly manifested. I mean the legitimate and proper 
influence, which is, not the crowding of our diction with Latin 
words and idioms, not an affluence of quotation or of remi- 
niscence of ancient history and fable, but grammatical accuracy 
in syntax and inflection, strict attention to the proper use of 
words singly considered, and idiomatic purity in the construc- 
tion of phrases and the arrangement of periods. In vocabulary, 
Cheke was a purist by principle ; for in his almost only known 
original composition, the Hurt of Sedition, he employs none but 
words which had been for centuries familiar to every intelligent 
Englishma-n. In his specimen of a translation of the New 
Testament, of which only a few chapters are extant — if, indeed, 
more ever existed — he carries his purism still farther, and 
introduces many Anglo-Saxon compounds, of his own coinage, 
in place of the technical words belonging to Christian doctrine 
which older translators had transferred, without change, from 
the G-reek and Latin texts to their own versions.* 

Cheke was no advocate of popular rights, but the following 
paragraphs from his Hurt of Sedition may even now be read 
with profit by those whom they concern. I take them from 

'^ See Clieke's translation of tke eigktli chapter of IMattliew's gospel, in 
Longer Notes and Illustrations, III,, at the end of this lecture. 

Among the new Yv'ords fabricated by Cheke for his translation are : hiwordes, 
parables, examples ; crossed, crucified ; dehitee (deputy) of ye fozirth 'part^ 
tetvavch ; forsaie7'S anid fo)'Schewers, ■prophets; froscni, sent out, audi froscnder, 
he who sends out; frcschman, proselyte; gainhirth, regeneration; groimdwrought^ 
founded ; hundcrdcr, centurion ; moond (mooned), lunatic ; onwriting, super- 
scription ; outpcopling, carrying into captivity ; outhorn, alien ; oiitcalled, elect ; 
eoulisch (animal), the natural man ; trutorn (true turn), true translation. 



522 SIR JOHN CHEKE _ Lect. XI. 

Holinslied, reprint of 1808, vol. iii. pp. 987, 988, 992, 1005, 
1007. 

Among so manie and notable benefits, wherewith God hath abeadie 
and plentifullie indued vs, there is nothing more beneficial!, than that 
we haue by his grace kept vs quiet from rebellion at this time. For 
we see such miseries hang ouer the whole state of the common-wealth, 
through the great misorder of your sedition, that it maketh vs much to 
reioise, that we haue beene neither partners of your doings, nor con- 
spirers of your counsels. For euen as the Lacedemonians for the 
auoiding of drunkennesse did cause their sons to behold their seruants 
when they were drunke, that by beholding their beastlinesse, they 
might auoid the like vice : euen so hath God like a merciful! father 
staled vs from your wickednesse, that by beholding the filth of your 
fault, we might iustlie for offense abhorre you like rebels, whome else 
by nature we loue like Englishmen. And so for our selues, we haue 
great cause to thanke God, by whose religion and holie word dailie 
taught vs, we learne not onelie to feare him trulie, but also to obeie 
our king faithfuUie, and to serue in our owne vocation like subiects 
honestlie. And as for you, we haue suerlie iust cause to lament you 
as brethren, and yet luster cause to rise against you as enimies, and 
most iust to ouerthrow you as rebels. 

For what hurt could be doone either to vs priuatlie, or to the whole 
common-wealth generallie, that is now with mischiefe so brought in by 
you, that euen as we see now the flame of your rage, so shall we neces- 
sarilie be consumed hereafter with the miserie of the same. Wherefore 
consider your selues with some light of vnderstanding, and marke this 
greeuous and horrible fault, which ye haue thus vilelie committed, 
howe heinous it must needs apjDcare to you, if ye will reasonablie con- 
sider that Avhich for my duties sake, and my whole countries cause, I 
will at this present declare vnto you. Ye which be bound by Gods 
word not to obeie for feare lilie men-pleasers, but for conscience sake 
like cristians, haue contrarie to Gods holie will, whose offense is euer- 
lasting death, and contrarie to the godlie order of quietnesse, set out to 
vs in the kings maiesties lawes, the breach whereof is not vnknowne to 
you, t:i]ven in hand vncalled of God, vnsent by men, vnfit by reason, 
to cast awaie your boundeu duties of obedience, and to put on you 
against the magistrats, Gods office committed to the magistrats, for the 
reformation of your pretensed iniuries. In the which dooing ye haue 
first faulted grieuouslie against God, next offended vnnaturallie our 
souereigne lord, thirdlie troubled miserablie.the whole common- wealth, 



Lect. XL SIR JOHN CHEKE 523 

Tndoone cruellle manie an honest man, and brought in an vtter miserie 
both to vs the kings snbiects, and to yonr seines behig false rebels. And 
yet ye pretend that partlie for Gods cause, and partlie for the common- 
wealths sake, ye doo arise, when as your selues cannot denie ; but ye 
that seeke in word Gods cause, doo breaks indeed Gods commande- 
nients ; and ye that seeke the common- wealth, haue destroied the com- 
mon-wealth : and so ye marre that ye would make, and brake that ye 
would amend, because ye neither seeke anie thing rightlie, nor would 
amend anie thing orderlie. 

* * * * 

But what talke I of disobedience so quietlie ? Haue not such mad 
rages run in your heads, that forsaking and bursting the quietnesse of 
the common peace, ye haue heinouslie and traitorouslie incamped your 
selues in field, and there like a bile in a bodie, naie like a sinke in a 
towne, haue gathered togither all the nastie vagabonds and idle loiterers 
to beare armour, &c. &c. 

* * » * 

Desperate sicknesse in physicke must haue desperate remedies, for 
meane medicines will neuer helpe great griefes. So if ye cast your 
selues into such sharpe diseases, ye must needs looke for sharpe medi- 
cines againe at your physicians hands. And worthie ye be to suffer 
the extremitie in a commonwealth, which seeke to doo the extremitie, 
and by reason must receive the like ye offer, and so be contented to 
bide the end willinglie which set on the beginning willfuUie. 

* * « * 

Thus the whole countrie lacking the good opinion of other nations, 
is cast into great shame by your Aairulinesse, and the proceedings of the 
countrie, be they neuer so godlie, shall be ill spoken of, as vnfit to be 
brought into vse ; and good things hereby that deserue praise, shall 
bide the rebuke of them that list to speake ill, and ill things vntouched 
shall be boldlier mainteined. 

* * » * 

And with what dutie or vertue in ye, can ye quench out of memorie 
this foule enterprise, or gather a good report againe to this realme, who 
haue so vilelie Avith reproch slandered the same, and diuerslie discre- 
dited it among others, and abated the good opinion which was had of the 
iust gouernement and ruled order vsed heretofore in this noble realme, 
which is now most grieuous, bicause it is now most without cause. 

If this outward opinion (without further inconuenience) were all, yet 
it might well be borne, and would with ease decaie as it grewe : but it 
hath not onlie hurt vs with voice, but indangered vs in deed, and cast 



524 THE EEFORMATION AND CLASSICAL LSAENINa Lect. XI. 

vs a great deale behind the hand, where else we might haue had a 
iollie foredeale. For that opportunitie of time which seldome chanceth, 
and is alwaies to bee taken, hath beene by your froward meanes lost 
this yeare, and so vainlie spent at home for bringing downe of you, 
which should else profitablie hane beene otherwise bestowed, that it 
hath beene almost as great a losse to vs abrode, to lacke that we might 
haue obteined, as it was combrance at home to go about the ouerthrow 
of you, whose sedition is to be abhorred. And we might both con- 
uenientlie haue inuaded some, if they would not reasonablie haue 
growne to some kind of friendship, and also defended others which 
would beside promise for times sake vniustlie set upon vs, and easilie 
haue made this stormie time a faire yeare vnto vs, if oiu' men had 
beene so haj)pie at home, as our likelihood abrode was fortunat. 

The Eeformation, at first, gave a stimulus to the study of 
Latin as the universal speech of science and of philosophical 
and religious discussion, and of G-reek as the language in which 
the New Testament — if not originally written in that tongue — 
had at least come down from the primitive ages of Christianity. 
But the attention of the learned was soon drawn from the 
secular literature of G-reece and Eome and absorbed in theo- 
logical and scholastic casuistry; and finally a superstitious 
distrust of the tendency of profane scholarship succeeded to the 
admiration with which the classical authors had been so recently 
regarded. The dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII. 
broke up some schools, and numbers of the Grreek and Latin 
manuscripts preserved in the conventual libraries were de- 
stroyed — sometimes in the blind fury of a popular outbreak, 
and sometimes by the monks themselves, who preferred burning 
their books to allowing them to pass into the hands of the here- 
tics. Hence the cause of classical learning sustained a check in 
England, and the study can hardly be said to have fairly re- 
vived until the reign of Elizabeth, who was herself a good Grreek 
and Latin scholar. 

This short interruption, so far from proving injurious to the 
improvement of the English language, was rather a benefit to 
it ; for it put a temporary stop to the influx of Latin words, 



Lect. XL MYSTERIES AND MOEALITIES 525 

^YlucIl were threatening to overwhelm the Anglo-Saxon vocabu- 
lary, and before the study of Grreek and Latin came again into 
vogue, English had gathered strength enough and received suffi- 
cient polish and culture to be able to sustain itself as a literary 
dialect against the encroachments of ancient or foreign philo- 
logies. 

About the close of the first third of this century, John 
Heywood introduced a new species, if not a new genus of lite- 
rature — the comedy. The comedy is distinguished from the 
Mysteries, Moralities, Interludes, and other histrionic exhibi- 
tions which had preceded it, by devoting itself to the repre- 
sentation of popular manners and of scenes from familiar life. 
The Mysteries v/ere properly theological, the Moralities ethical, 
in aim, and professedly in tone. The characters were either 
taken from sacred history or they were allegorical personifica- 
tions of virtues and vices. To draw an exact line between 
them, or between either of them and later forms of theatrical 
representation, is impossible, because they belong to uncritical 
ages, when authors themselves had no clear notions of the prin- 
ciples of imaginative literature, or of the boundaries by which 
truth to nature requires us to divide its different branches ; and 
what they confounded in practice, it is idle for us to attempt to 
separate in theory. 

These ancient scenic entertainments v/ere often intermixed 
with buffoonery and burlesque, or with incidents and dialogue 
of a graver character, sometimes approximating closely to the 
incidents and sentiments of real life. They therefore prepared 
the way for the reception and the composition of both comedy 
and tragedy — for the entire drama, in short — and this branch 
of English liter?tture is more indebted to these rude essays for 
its special character than to the influence of the classic stage. 

I ought here to notice certain important formal and substan- 
tial distinctions between the English drama and that of the 
Continent in general, the French especially, which latter shows 
much more strongly the influence of classic models, and of the 



526 THE ENGLISH DRAMA Lect. XL 

traditions belonging to the scenic representations of tlie middle 
ages. In form, the English writers have usually disregarded 
the unities of time and place to which the French so strictly 
adhere, and in action and tendency, they have a less distinctly 
avowed, though not less real, moral and didactic character. 

The comedies of Moliere, for instance, are professedly designed 
to satirize, each some one prevalent vice or folly; and every 
play is as conspicuously marked and labelled as the phials of an 
apothecary's shop ; so that the moral patient is always informed 
beforehand what malady the medicine is intended to cure, and 
what drug he is about to swallow. The moral of the English 
comedy is not thus ostentatiously displayed, nor, in the highest 
examples of that species of composition, is the purpose of the 
dramatist limited to the exposure and castigation of a single 
weakness or a single wrong. 

And hereiD, as in all else, the Shakespearian drama is in- 
finitely more true to nature than all other schools. Providence 
and nature indeed are great moral teachers, but their lessons are 
neither ticketed nor announced in advance ; nor are they single, 
or observant of the stage proprieties of time or place. A man 
is not born, and bred, and trained up, and sent out into the 
world, with a retinue of dramatis personse, for no other purpose 
than to show forth, by his example, the excellence of virtue, or, 
by his punishment or disgrace, the evils of ambition and avarice, 
the folly of pride or the absurdities of fashion and social con- 
ventionalism ; for even the Deity does not employ persons solely 
as means to an end. We are all here for a multitude of pur- 
poses, individual to ourselves or common to our fellow-men, 
and none is sent hither only as a model or as a warning. The 
lessons of the world are incidental, not formal or specific ; and 
that great humanity, from which we are to learn how to solve the 
problems of social life, is a wise teacher indeed, but no pedant. 

The plays of Heywood, to borrow the words of Wharton, ' are 
destitute of plot, humour, or character' — certainly very essential 
ingredients in true comedy. Hence, they are of no intrinsic 



Lect. XI. JOHN HETWOOD 527 

importance, and their literary interest is only that which attaches 
to all distinctly characterized first essays in every branch of 
composition. They are valuable, not as models, but only as the 
first clearly recognized specimens of their kind, and as marking 
a period of transition and of a new creation in dramatic art. 
They have, too, a philological interest and value, but this will 
be more appropriately considered in connection with the diction 
of the later English dramatists, who, by a short interval, pre- 
ceded Shakespeare. 

In any general view of English literature, a notice of the ballad 
poetry is indispensable ; but in a course devoted chiefly to the 
philology of our tongue, this branch of our poetry must occupy 
a very subordinate place, because the diction of the ballads 
does not appear truly to represent either the colloquial language 
of their own periods, or the literary dialect, as exhibited in any 
other form of prose or poetical composition. It is therefore to 
be regarded as a special nomenclature rather than as a part of 
the general language of England. The English ballads are 
usually of moderate merit, and they seem to have been com- 
posed by and for persons of a low grade of culture. There are 
indeed many very striking exceptions to this latter remark, but 
in these cases, the dialect rises at once above the level of that of 
the ordinary ballad poetry, assimilates itself to the diction of 
other poetical writings, and is hardly distinguishable from them 
in either vocabulary or inflection. 

The singular grammatical forms of many English ballads 
seem to be mere ignorant corruptions, or unwarrantable licenses 
of inferior rhymsters, and they can never be cited as authorities 
in philological discussion. The Scottish ballads are in general 
superior to the English, and it is highly probable that they 
derive many of their literary as well as their dialectic peculiari- 
ties from the songs of the Scandinavian bards, whose popular 
ballads are generally of a higher rank than those of the English 
or of any other of the Northern nations. The Scottish resemble 
the Scandinavian ballads both in form and in diction, and some 



528 OLD ENGLISH BALLADS Lect. XI. 

Northern words and forms occur in them, of which it would not 
be easy to produce examples in other branches of literature. 

The individual peculiarities of dialect which mark these per- 
formances are too numerous to be noticed in detail, but I may- 
observe in general, that the conjugations of the verbs seem to 
be almost arbitrarily varied, and the writers often fail to dis- 
tinguish between the radical and the servile, or so to speak 
accidental, parts of words. 

Besides this, there is, as to most of them, a total uncertainty 
with respect to their local, origin and their date, and therefore 
we can assign them to no dialectic class, no definite period, in 
the history of the language. In spite, therefore, of the beauty, 
the psychological, and even the historical interest of many of 
these productions, they must be excluded from the rank of 
influences or of landmarks in our philological annals.* 

LONGER NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 
L 

SIR THOMAS MORe's LIFE OF RICHARD III. 

As I have observed in my former Series of Lectures, Appendix, 
p. 388, the coalescent forms asaued and afled occur in Ilardynge's text 
of More's Life of Richard III., p. 547, reprint of 1812. The passage 
is probably an addition by Grafton, as it is not found in RastelJ's 
edition. It would seem not likely that so learned a man as More would 
have employed such incorrect expressions ; but, nevertheless, a case of 
coalescence is found in the edition of Rastell just referred to, and it is 
possible that it is one of many which the original manuscript contained, 
and which the editor had resolved into their elements. It is this : 
* This deuise all be it that it made the matter to wise men more un- 
lykely, well perceyuyng that the intendours of suche a purpose wolde 

* I cannot dismiss tlie subject of ballads without drawing the attention of my 
readers to the admirable and very complete collection of English and Scottish 
ballads, in eight volumes, edited by Professor F. J. Child, of Harvard University. 
Great care has been exercised in the selection of the most authoritative texts, and 
they are illustrated with a profusion of folk-lore, which, with the ballads, makes 
the work a true encyclopaedia of popular song. 



Lect. XI. MORE's life OF BICHAKD III. 529 

rather haue liadde tlieyr liarneys on theyr backes than taue bonnde 
them iippe in barrelles' &c. — Worhes of Sir Thomas More, p. 45, E. 

On pages 52,66 and G7 of Eastell's edition, are inserted long passages, 
which, according to the marginal note, Avere ' not Avritten bj Master 
More in this history by him writte in English, but are translated ont of 
this history which he wrote in Laten.' The orthography of these 
passages is not distinguishable from that of the rest of the work, nor 
indeed would it be easy to point out any special differences, in syntax 
or diction, betAveen what is declared to be More's composition, and 
what is, apparently, Ivastell's translation. But betAveen 1513 and 1557 
very considerable changes had taken place in the spelling and the 
phraseological combinations of English, and it is hence fairly to be 
inferred that the editor, according to the custom of the time, had con- 
formed the orthography and the grammar of More's original manuscript 
to later usage. 

Holinshed incorporated this life into his chronicle, and in the edition 
of 1586 it is professedly printed 'according to a copie of his [More's] 
owne hande, printed among his other Works.' This of course refers to 
Eastell's edition ; but the editor modernizes Eastell's text, as Eastell, 
no doubt, had done with INIore's original. In my former Series of 
Lectures, XXVL, p. 584, I have noticed the distinction betAveen sith 
and since as having arisen while those between the tAvo affirmative and 
betAveen the tAvo negative particles Avere passing aAvay. Sir Thomas 
J\Iore, according to the edition of 1557, generally employs sith as an 
illative, since as an adverb or preposition of time ; but the distinction is 
so oflen disregarded, that it is evident it had not become fully established 
in his time, or in that of his editor. Thus on p. 50, H, in a passage 
translated by Eastell, sith, but, tAVO lines loAver, in More's text, sins, are 
illatives; and siris is employed in the same Avay, pp. 64, H, 136, H, 
and elscAvhere. On the other hand, sith is a time-Avord, p. 223, D, 
1427, C, and in other passages. The cases of the use of sins as an 
illative on pp. 50 and 64 occur in the Life of Eichard III., and in both 
instances, the Holinshed of 1586, reprinted in 1808, has sith. The 
logical distinction betAveen since and sith, as respectively expressive of 
sequence and consequence, had noAV become clearly recognized, and 
Holinshed modernized his author accordingly. 

In fact, not only is the orthography of Eastell very greatly changed 
in Holinshed, but rhetoric and grammar are, in numerous instances, 
accommodated to the taste or critical opinions of the later editor. Thus, 
in the first paragraph, Eastell has : ' Kyng EdAA'arde of that name the 
fourth J ' Holinshed : * King Edward the fourth of that name ; ' Eastell : 

M M 



530 TTNDALE Lect. XI. 

* Edwarde the Prynce, a tliirtene yeare of age ; ' Holinshed : * Edward 
the prince, a thirteene jeares of age.' 

Mere's mamiscript being no longer in existence, we cannot presume 
to say hoAV far Eastell corrected it ; but if he did not make very con- 
siderable alterations, he must have been, for his time, the most con- 
scientious of editors. I regret that I have not been able to institute 
a comparison between Eastell and the original editions of IMore's con- 
troversial writings, as this Avould furnish a means of judging how nearly 
his text of the Life conforms to the manuscript. 

Note. — Since my manuscript was sent to press, I have had an oppor- 
tunity of comparing the original edition of More's Apology, printed by 
Eastell in 1533, with the text given by the same publisher in his 
edition of More's complete English works, printed in 1557. As we 
might expect in the repetition of a work by the same press, the 
differences between the two texts are, in general, orthographical 
merely, such, for example, as the spelling, e^e, ej/en, jnuche, fearde 
in the later, for the yie^ yien, myclie, frrd^ of the former edition, and I 
have not observed any instance of a change in grammatical construc- 
tion, or of the substitution of a different word, in the text of 1557. 

With respect to sitli and smce, I note that in the Apology sith is used 
as an illative between fifty and sixty times, as a time-word twice, folios 
7G and 110, edition of 1533, while since (synnys, synne, synnes,) 
occurs, always as a time-word, on folios 77, 84, 106, 148, 199, 202, 
203, 210, 214, 232 and 243. 

II. 

Matthew's gospel chapter viii. from tyndale. 

1 "When Jesus was come downe from the mountayne, mocli people 
folowed him. 

2 And lo, there cam a lepre, and worsheped him saynge, Master, if 
thou wylt, thou canst make me clene. 

3 He putt forthe his bond and touched him saynge : I will, be clene, 
and immediatly his leprosy was clensed. 

4 And Jesus said vnto him. Se thou tell no man, but go and shewe 
thysilf to the preste and offer the g^^^^-, that Moses commaunded to be 
offred, in witnes to them. 

5 When Jesus was entred in to Capernaum, there cam vnto him a 
certayno Centurion, besechyng him 

6 And saynge : INIaster, my servaunt lyeth sicke att home off the 
palsye, and is grevously payned. 



Lect. Xr. TTNDALE 531 

7 And Jesus sayd vnto him. I will come and cure liim. 

8 The Centurion ansvcered and saide : Syr I am not worthy that 
thou shuldest com vnder the rofe of my housse, but speake the worde 
only and my servaunt shalbe healed. 

9 For y also my selfe am a man vndre power, and have sowdeeres 
yndre me, and y saye to one, go, and he goeth : and to anothre, come, 
and he cometh : and to my servaunt, do this, and he doeth it. 

10 "When Jesus herde these saynges : he marveyled, and said to 
them that folowed him : Verely y say vnto you, I have not foimde so 
great fayth : no, not in Israeli. 

11 I say therfore vnto you, that many shall come from the eest and 
weest, and shall rest with Abraham, Ysaac and Jacob, in the kyngdom 
of heven : 

12 And the childi-en of the kingdom shalbe cast out in to the 
vtmoost dercknes, there shalbe wepinge and gnasshing of tethe. 

13 Then Jesus said vnto the Centurion, go thy waye, and as thou 
hast believed so be it vnto the. And his servaunt was healed that 
same Iioure. 

14 And Jesus went into Peters housse, and saw his wyves mother 
lyir;ge sicke of a fevre, 

15 And he thouched her hande, and the fevre leeft her; and she 
arose, and ministred vnto them. 

16 When the even was come they brought -vaito him many that 
were possessed with devylles. And he cast out the spirites with a word, 
and healed all that were sicke, 

17 To fulfill that whiche was spoken by Esay the prophet sainge : 
He toke on him oure infirmytes, and bare oure sicknesses. 

18 When Jesus saw moche j)eople about him, he commaunded to 
go over the water. 

19 And there cam a scribe and said vnto him : master, I well folowe 
the whythersumever thou goest. 

20 And Jesus said vnto him: the foxes have holes, and the byrddes 
of the aier have nestes, but the sonne of man hath not whereon to leye 
his heede : 

21 Anothre that was one of hys disciples seyd vnto him: master 
suffre me fyrst to go and burye my father. 

22 But Jesus said vnto him : folowe me, and let the deed burie 
their deed. 

23 And he entred in to a shyppe, and his disciples folowed him, 

24 And lo there arose a greate storme in the see, in so moche, that 
the shippe was hyd with waves, and he was aslepe. 



532 SIB JOHN CHEKE Lect. XI. 

25 And his disciples cam vnto him, and awoke him, sayinge: 
master, save us, Ave perishe. 

26 And he said vnto them: why are ye fearfull, o ye endewed with 
lytell faithe ? Then he arose, and rebnked the wyndes and the see, 
and there folowed a greate cahiie. 

27 And men marveyled and said: what man is this, that bothe 
wyndes and see obey him ? 

28 And when he was come to the other syde, in to the countre off 
the gergesens, there met him two possessed of devylls, which cam out 
off the graves, and were out off measure fearce, so that no man myght 
go by that waye. 

29 And lo they cryed out saynge : Jesu the sonne off God, what 
have we to do with the? art thou come hyther to torment vs before the 
tyme [be come] ? 

30 There was a good waye off from them a greate heerd of swyne 
fedinge. 

31 Then the devyls besought him saynge: if thou cast vs out, 
aufire vs to go oure waye into the heerd of swyne. 

32 And he said vnto them : go youre wayes : Then went they out, 
and departed into the heerd of swyne. And lo, all the heerd of swyne 
was caryed with violence hedlinge into the see, and perisshed in the 
water. 

33 Then the heerdmen fleed, and went there ways into the cite, and 
tolde every thinge, and what had fortuned vnto them that were possessed 
of the devyls. 

34 And lo, all the cite cam out, and met Jesus. And when they 
sawe him they besought him, to depart out off there costes. 

III. 

SIR JOHN CHEKE's TRANSLATION OF MATTHEW VIII. 

And when he cam from y^ hil y^^'^ folowd him a greet companj of 
men, and lo a leper stood, and bond himself to him ^ and said L. if yow 
wilt yow maist clens me. And Jesus stretched forth his hand, and 
touched him and said. J wil. be thow clensed. And bi and bi his 
lepernes was clensed. And Jesus said vnto him, look yow tel no man. 
But go y wais schew yself to y® priest. And offer y* gift which Moses 
comanded to be given y^ y«^ might beer witness yeerof 

As Jesus cam into Capernaum, yeer cam an hunderder vnto him and 
Bued vnto him on this sort. Sir mi servant ^ lieth sick in mi house of 

* TTpOffEKVVei, ^ TTOfC. 



Lect. XL SIR JOHN CHEKB 533 

y^ palsej, grevousli tormented. And Jesus said vnto him. I wil come 
and lieel him. And y® himderder answerd him with y^^s wordes. Sir 
J am not a fit man whoos house ye schold enter. Sai ye onli y® word 
and mi servant ^ schal be heeled. For I am a man vnder y® power of 
oyer, and have soldiers vnderneth me, and J sai to y^ soldier go and 
he goeth, and to an other com and he cometh, and to mi servant do y^ 
and he doth it. Jesus heering ys marvelled and said to y^°^ y* folowed 
him. Trull J sai vnto yow, J have not found so greet faith no not in 
Jsrt. But J sai vnto yow y* mani schal com from y^ Est, and y^ West, 
and schal be set with Abraham Jsaak and Jacob in y^ kingdoom of 
heaven, but y® childern of y® kingdoom schal be thrown in to outward 
darknes, yeer schal be weping and gnasching of teth. And Jesus said 
to y^ hunderder, go y wais and as yow belevedst, so be it vnto y®. And 
his servant was heeled even in y® saam howr. 

And Jesus cam in to. Peters hous, and saw his moother in law laid 
down and sick of y® axess,^ and he touched her bi y® hand and y® axes 
left her, and sche roos and served them. 

And late in y® evening y^^ brought him mani y* was develled, and 
with his word he cast out y® sprits, and healed al y* weer il at ease, y* 
Jsaie y^ p°pheets wordes which he spiiak might be fulfilled. He hath 
taken our weaknes on him, and hath born our sickness. 

And Jesus seing much resort about him comanded yem to go to ye 
fur side of y® water. And on of y® Scribes cam and said vnto him. 
Master J wil folow y^ whiyersoever yow goost. and Jesus said vnto 
him. Foxes hath dens, and y® birds of y'aier hath nests, but y® son of 
man hath not wheer he mai lai his hed. 

And an oyer of his disciples said vnto him. Sir suifer me first to 
depart, and buri mi fayer. And Jesus said vnto him folow me and let 
y® deed buri yeer deed. 

And after he entered into a boot^ his discipils"* folowed him, and lo 
yeer was a greet stoorm on y® see, in so much y* y^ boot was coverd 
with y^ waves. He slept. And his discipils came and raised him, and 
said. L. save vs we perisch. And he said -^oito yem, ye smalfaithd 
whi be ye aferd. yen he roos and rebuked y® windes and y® see, and 
yeer was a great calm. But y® men yeer marveled and saied. "What 
maner of man is y^^ y* winds and see obej him. 

And after he was come en y® other side into y^ gergeseens contree, 
yeer jjiett him ij develds, coming forth from y® graves, veri fiers men,^ 
so y* no man cold pas y* wai, and lo y^i cried and said, what haav we 

* 'TroiQ. * TTvpETOQ.. ^ t:\o1ov. * fiadrjTai, ^ ')(a\eTroi, 



534 SIR JOHN CHEKE Lect. XL 

to do witli y^ Jesus yow son of god. Camest yow hitlier afoor hand to 
torment vs. And yeer was a good wai from y^^ an herd of mani swijn 
feeding. And y® devels desird liim saieng. Jf yow cast vs forth suffer 
vs to go into y^^ heard of swijn. And he bad y^"* goo. And y" went 
forth, and w^ent into y® herd of swijn. And lo y^ hool heerd of swijn 
set on ^ y^®^ wai bi an hedlong place- in to y® see, and died in y® waters. 
And y^ swijnherds fled and came into citee, and told y^™ y^® hool 
matter, and Avhat taking y® develleds weer in. And loo y® hool cittee 
cam forth and met Jesus, and after y^^ had seen him y^^ desired him y* 

eer 

he wold depart out of yoos coosts. 

* ^pfiTjae, * Kara rov Kprj^yov 



LECTUEE XIL 

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE DURING THE 
REIGN OF ELIZABETH. 

The MirroLir for Ma.gi strait es, to wliich Warton devotes much 
more space, and ascribes more importance than it merits, was 
the first conspicuous work that appeared after the accession of 
Elizabeth, and was moreover the most voluminous production 
in English poetry between the time of Lydgate and that of 
Spenser. It was the work of several different writers ; but only 
one of them, Sackville, better knov/n as the author of Gforboduc, 
exhibits any real poetical power. 

The general plan of the work is an imitation of Boccaccio's 
De Casibus 'FrincijDum, which, as I have mentioned, was made 
by Lydgate the groundwork of his Fall of Princes ; but the 
personages in the Mirrour for Magistrates all belong to English 
history, and the narrative part of the poem is little else than a 
rhymed chronicle, designed to include all the tragical events 
known to have happened to persons distinguished in the annals 
of England. 

The prologue by Sackville, or Induction as he calls it, is not 
destitute of invention, and the versification is smooth and flow- 
ing ; but, both in this respect and in its allegorical representa- 
tions, it is so far inferior to Spenser, that it has been deservedly 
eclipsed by that great author. Nor does this work possess 
much philological value, for it exhibits few marks of progress 
or change in the language. In this latter particular, it is more 
archaic than Surrey and Wyatt, who preceded it by a generation. 



536 STANIHURST Lect. XIL 

The e final is sometimes articulated in the possessive, though 
otherwise silent, as : 

With Nighte's starres thick powdred every where. 

This is a point of some interest, because ifc helps to explain a 
grammatical corruption, which about this time became almost 
universal — the employment of the personal pronoun liis as the 
sign of the possessive case. 

A remnant of the old Anglo-Saxon gerundial, in its passive 
signification, sometimes occurs, as : 

The soile that earst so seemly was to seen, 

seen being here used passively, instead of our modern form to 
be seen. In this case, however, seen is not a participle, but has 
the force of a true passive infinitive or gerundial. 

Sackville is the principal, if not the sole, author of a more 
important work, which has been published both under the title 
of G-orboduc and of Ferrex and Porrex. This is remarkable as 
being the first regular tragedy in the English language, though 
constructed in many respects upon very different principles 
from the modern tragedy. The most noticeable feature of its 
form is the introduction of what was called the * dumb show,' 
an allegorical pantomimic chorus, at the beginning of each act, 
and of a regular vocal chorus at the end of each except the last. 
The use of the former seems to have been to fill up the space 
between the acts with something which should serve to render 
less abrupt the change of time and place ; for the unities are 
not observed in the play, and Sackville evidently thought that 
this departure from the canons of the classic stage ought to be 
in some way compensated. 

The rule of unity of time and place had really no higher 
origin than the mechanical difficulties of scene-shifting on the 
primitive stage. It is fortuna^te for dramatic truth that modern 
artists have been wise enough to rise above so arbitrary a pre- 
scription. Life and nature exhibit no man's whole character. 



Lect. XJI. STANIHUEST 537 

develope and illustrate no master passion, in a single day, or 
upon a single scene. In tlie moral and intellectual, as in the 
physical world, time is an essential element. The events which 
subdue or aggravate our native propensities produce no imme- 
diate and appreciable effects upon character. Moral results are 
slowly unfolded, and can be seen and appreciated only by the 
alternate lights and shades of differently combined circum- 
stances and varied impulses. Nature does not upheave and shape 
a continent at one throe, and even chemical affinity forms no 
instantaneous combinations of multiplied ingredients. Both the 
formation and the knowledge of character are gradual and slow. 
We know and appreciate a man only by continued observation, 
under different conditions of time and place and circumstance ; 
and the characters of a drama can best be revealed, in all their 
completeness, only by changes of outward surroundings, and a 
succession of events, the occurrence of which at one place and 
one time imnlies a s^reater violation of the truth of life than is 

J. o 

involved in the shifting of a scene, or the supposition that days, 
or weeks, or years intervene between acts of the drama which, 
upon the stage, are separated by an interval of but a few 
moments. 

I have mentioned that Lord Berners's translation of Froissart 
was followed by the appearance of several original English 
chronicles, generally of slender literary merit ; but the period 
we are now considering gave birth to a work of much greater 
importance, both in an historical and in a philological point of 
view. I refer to the Chronicle of Holinshed, which, as well as 
those of Hall and other early annalists, was diligently studied 
by Shakespeare, and must have influenced his style, as well as 
furnished him with historical and biographical facts. Holin- 
shed's history of England is a compilation from various authors, 
some of earlier date, and some writing expressly for this under- 
taking. There is, therefore, naturally a great diversity and 
inequality of style and of literary merit. In these respects, 
few parts of Holinshed come up to the Life of Eichard III., 



538 - STANIHUEST Lect. XII. 

ascribed to More, still fewer to Cheke's Hurt of Sedition. The 
range of subjects discussed in this compiJation is great; for the 
work attempts the natural, and partially the literar}^, history of 
England, as well as its political and its martial annals. The 
multiplicity of topics treated required a corresponding extent 
and variety of diction, and therefore this chronicle, in its several 
parts, constituted much the most complete and comprehensive 
repository of the English tongue which had yet appeared. It 
is hence of great value, as an exhibition of the full resources of 
the language of prose in the middle of Queen Elizabeth's reign. 
The most curious, and, to the lexicographer at least, the most 
important part of this collection, is the description and history 
of Ireland by Eichard Stanihurst, contained in the sixth volume 
of the edition of 1808. Stanihurst was a literary coxcomb, who 
had a high and apparently a Avell-merited reputation for learn- 
ing, but who did not succeed in impressing his contemporaries 
with much respect for his abilities as an original writer, or even 
as a translator; for, like most of the literati of his time, he 
attempted the difficult problem of rendering the beauties of 
classic poeti*y in modern verse. He published a version of the 
first four books of Virgil's iEneid in hexameters, but does not 
seem to have found encouragement in public favour to prosecute 
the work. Nashe, as quoted by Wart on, observes that ' Stany- 
hurst, the otherwise learned, trod a foul, lumbring, boisterous, 
wallowing measure in his translation of Virgil,' The reader 
will not find in the following specimen, which I take from 
Warton, much cause to dissent from this opinion : — 

With tentiue listning each wight was setled in harkning ; 
Then father jEneas chronicled from loftie bed hautie : 
You bid me, O princesse, to scarifie a festerd old sore, 
Now that the Troians vf ere prest by the Grecian armie. 

Warton adds, ' With all this foolish pedantry, Stanyhurst was 
certainly a scholar. But in this translation he calls Chorebus, 
one of the Trojan chiefs, a bedlamite \ he says that old Priam 



Lect. XII. STANIHUEST 539 

girded on his sword Morglay* the name of a sword in the 
Grothic romances ; that Dido would have been glad to have been 
brought to bed even of a cockney, a Dandiprat hopthu7nb ; and 
that Jupiter, in kissing his daughter, bust his pretty prating 
parrot^ The same critic quotes these lines from a piece of 
Stanihurst's called 'An Epitaph against rhyme,' the object of 
which, I suppose, was to illustrate, by example, the great supe- 
riority of the hexameter to the more modern measures, and the 
advantages of combining the two systems : — 

A Sara for goodnesse, a great Bellona for budgenesse, 

For myldnesse Anna, for cliastitye godlye Susanna. 

Hester in a good shift, a ludith stoute at a dead lift : 

Also lulietta, with Dido rich Cleopatra : 

With sundrie namelesse, and women many more blamelesse, &c. 

Stanihurst flourished in that brief period of philological and 
literary affectation which for a time threatened the language, 
the poetry, and even the prose of England with a degradation 
as complete as that of the speech and the literature of the last 
age of imperial Eome. This quality of style appears in its 
most offensive forna in the nauseous rhymes of Skelton, in its 
most elegant in Lillie, in its most quaint and ludicrous in 
Stanihurst. Spenser and Shakespeare were the Dei ex r,iachina 
who checked the ravages of this epidemic ; but it still showed 
virulent symptoms in Sylvester, and the style of glorious Fuller 
and of gorgeous Browne is tinted with a glow which is all the 
more attractive because it is recognised as the flush of convales- 
cence from what had been a dangerous malady. 

Stanihurst's dedication of his history to * Sir Henrie Sidneie, 
Lord Deputie Generall of Ireland,' is characteristic : — 

My verie good Lord, there liane beene dinerse of late, that with no 
small toile, and great commendation, liaue throughlie imploied thera- 
seliies in culling and packing togither the scrapings and fragments of 



""" Warton seems to hare overlooked the obvious etymology of this name, 
iphich is Eomance, not Gothic, it being a corapound of mort and glaive. 



540 STANIHUEST Lect. XII, 

the Mstorie of Ireland. Among wliicli crue, my fast friend, and inward 
companion, maister Edmund Campion did so learnedlie beqnite liim- 
selfe, in the penning of certeine breefe notes, concerning that conntrie, 
as certes it was greatlie to be lamented, that either his theame had not 
beene shorter, or else his leasure had not beene longer. For if Alexan- 
der were so rauisht with Homer his historic, that notwithstanding 
Thersites were a crabbed and a rugged dwarfe, being in outward feature 
so deformed, and in inward conditions so crooked, as he seemed to 
stand to no better steed, than to lead apes in hell : yet the valiant cap- 
teine, weighing how liuelie the golden poet hath set forth the ouglie 
dandeprat in his colours, did sooner wish to be Homer his Thersites, 
than to be the Alexander of that doltish rithmour, which vntertooke 
with his woodden verses to blase his famous and martiall exploits: how 
much more ought Ireland (being in sundrie ages seized of diuerse good 
and coragious Alexanders) sore to long and thirst after so rare a clarke 
as maister Campion, who was so vpright in conscience, so deepe in 
iudgement, so ripe in eloquence, as the countrie might haue beene well 
assured to haue had their historic trulie reported, pithilie handled, and 
brauelie polished. 

Howbeit although the giose of his fine abbridgment, being matcht 
with other mens dooings, bare a surpassing kind of excellencie : yet it 
was so hudled up in haste, as in respect of a Campion his absolute per- 
fection, it seemed rather to be a woorke roughlie hewed, than smoothlie 
planed. Vpon which ground the gentlemen being willing that his so 
tender a suckling, hauing as yet but greene bones, should haue been 
swadled and rockt in a cradle, till in tract of time the ioints thereof 
Avere knit, and growen stronger : yet notwithstanding he was so crost 
in the nicke of this determination, that his historic in mitching wise 
wandred through sundrie hands, and being therewithal! in certeine places 
somewhat tickle toonged (for maister Campion did learne it to speake) 
and in other places ouer spare, it twitlcd more tales out of schoole, 
and drowned weightier matters in silence, than the author (vpon better 
vicAV and longer search) would haue permitted. Thus much being by 
the sager sort pondered, and the perfection of the historic earnestlie 
desired: I, as one of the most that could doo least, was fully resolued 
to inrich maister Campion his chronicle, with further additions. But 
weighing on the other side, that my course packthred could not haue 
beene sutablie knit with his fine silke, and what a disgrace it were, 
bungerlie to botch vp a rich garment, by clouting it with patches of 
sundrie colours, I was forthwith reclaimed from my former resolution, 
reckoning it for better, that my pen should Avalke in such wise in that 



Lect. XII. STANIHUEST 541 

craggie and balkisli waie, as the trutli of the matter being forprised, I 
would neither openlie borrow, nor priuilie imbezell aught to anie great 
purpose from his historic. But as I was hammering that worke by 
stealths on the anuill, I was giuen to vnderstand by some of mine 
acquaintance, that others had brought our raAv historic to that ripe- 
nesse, as my paine therein would seeme but needlesse. Wherevpon 
beino" willing to be eased of the burden, and loath also in lurching wise 
to forstall any man his trauell, I was contented to leue them thumping 
in the forge, andquietlie to repaire to mine vsuall and pristinat studies, 
taking it not to stand with good maners, like a flittering ilie to fall in 
an other man his dish. HoAvbeit the little paine I tooke therein was 
not so secretlie mewed within my closet, but it slipt out at one chinke 
or other, and romed so farre abroad, as it was whispered in their eares 
who before were in the historie busied. The gentlemen conceiuing a 
greater opinion of me than I was well able to vphold, dealt verie efFec- 
tuallic with me, that as well at their instance, as for the affection I bare 
my natiue countrie, I would put mine helping hand to the building 
and perfecting of so commendable a worke. Hauing breathed for a 
few dales on this motion, albeit I knew that my worke was plumed 
with downe, and at that time was not sufficientlie feathered to flie : yet 
I was by them weied not to beare my selfe coy, by giuing my entier 
friends in so reasonable a request a squemish repulse. Wherefore, my 
singular good lord, hereis laid downe to your lordship his view a briefe 
discourse, with a iagged historie of a ragged wealepublike. Yet as 
naked as at the first blush it seemeth, if it shall stand with your 
honor his pleasure (whom I take to be an expert lapidarie) at vacant 
houres to insearch it, you shall find therein stones of such estimation, 
as are worth to be coucht in rich and pretious collars. And in especiall 
your lordship, aboue aU others, in that you haue the charge of that 
countrie, male here be schooled, by a right line to leueU your 
gouernement. For in perusing this historie, you shall find vice 
punished, vertue rewarded, rebellion suppressed, loialtie exalted, 
haughtinesse disliked, courtesie beloued, briberie detested, iustice im- 
braced, polling officers to their perpetuall shame reprooued, and 
vpright gouernours to their eternall fame extolled. And trulie to 
my thinking such magistrats as meane to have a vigilant eie to their 
charge, cannot bestow their time better, than when they sequester 
themselues from the affaires of the wealepublike, to recreat and quicken 
their spirits by reading the chronicles that decipher the gouernement of 
a wealepublike. For as it is no small commendation for one to beare 
the dooings of manic, so it breedeth great admiration, generallie to haue 



542 . STANinUEST Lect. XII. 

all those qualities in one man harboured, for wliiclie particularlie 
diuerse are eternised. And who so will be addicted to the reading of 
histories, shall readilie find diuerse euents worthie to be remembered, 
and sundrie sound examples dailie to be followed. Vpon which ground 
the learned haue, not without cause, adiudged an historic to be the 
marrow of reason, the cream e of experience, the sap of wisdome, the 
pith of iudgement, the librarie of knowledge, the kernell of policie, 
the vnfoldresse of treacherie, the kalender of time, the lanterne of 
truth, the life of memorie, the doctresse of behauiour, the register of 
antiquitie, the trumpet of chiualrie. And that our Irish historie being 
diligentlie heeded, yeeldeth all these commodities, I trust the indifferent 
reader, vpon the vntwining thereof, will not denie. But if anie man 
his stomach shall be found so tenderlie niced, or so deintilie spiced, as 
that he male not, forsooth, digest the grosse draffe of so base a countrie, 
I doubt not but your lordship, who is thoroughlie acquainted with the 
woorthinesse of the Hand, will be soone persuaded to leaue such quaint 
and licourous repastours, to feed on their costlie and delicate wood- 
cocks, and willinglie to accept the louing present of your heartie wel- 
willer. The gift is small, the giuer his good will is great : I stand in 
good hope, that the greatnesse of the one will counterpoise the smal- 
nesse of the other. Wherefore that I male the sooner vnbroid the 
peliish trash that is wrapt within this treatise, I shalle craue your 
lordship to lend me either your ears in hearing, or your eies in 
reading the tenor of the discourse following. 

I add the following passages from pp. 6, 7, for the sake of 
the odd speculations on language. It is noticeable that among 
the words mentioned by Stanihurst, near the end of the extract, 
as having been borrowed by the Irish from the English, are 
coat and goiun. These are two of the words cited by Davies as 
sufficient proof to 'convict' the Englishman ' of belonging to a 
race that partakes largely of Celtic blood.' I have no doubt 
that Davies is an abler philologist than Stanihurst ; but Stani- 
hurst is good evidence to shovf that these vrords were not 
claimed as Celtic in Celtic Ireland itself, three hundred years 



I find it solemnlie aduouched, aswell in some of the Irish pamphlets 
as in Girald. Camb. that Gathelus or Gaidelus, & after him Simon 
Brecke, deuised the Irish language out of all other toongs then extant 



Lect. Xir. STANIHUEST 543 

in the world. And thereof (saith Cambrensis) it is called Gaidelacli, 
partlie of Gaidelus the first founder, and partlie for that it is com- 
pounded of aU languages. But considering the course of interchanging 
and blending of speeches togither, not by inuention of art, but by vse 
of talke, I am rather led to beleeue (seeing Ireland was inhabited 
within one yeare after' the diuision of toongs) that Bastolenus, a branch 
of Japhet, who first seized vpon Ireland, brought thither the same kind 
of speech, some of the 72 that to this familie befell at the desolation of 
Babell. Vnto whom succeeded the Scithians, Grecians, Egyptians, 
Spaniards, Danes, of all which the toong must needs have borowed 
part, but especiallie reteining the steps of Spanish then spoken in 
Granado, as from their mightiest ancestors. Since then to Henrie 
Fitzempresse the conqueror no such inuasion happened them, as 
whereby they might be driuen to infect their natiue language, vntouched 
in manner for the space of seuenteene hundred yeares' after the arriuall 
of Iberius. It seemeth to borrow of the Spanish the common phrase, 
Commestato, that is, How doo you ? or hoAV fareth it with you ? It 
fetchetch sundrie words from the Latine, as arget of Argentum^ monie ; 
salle of sccl, salt ; cappouUe of Cahallus, a plough horse, or (according 
vnto the old English terme) a cabaU or caple : birreat of the old 
motheaten Latine word Birretum, a bonnet. The toong is sharpe and 
sententious, & ofFereth great occasion to quicke apophthegms and 
proper allusions. Wherefore their common iesters and rimers, whom 
they terme Bards, are said to delight passinglie these that conceiue the 
grace and propertie of the toong. But the true Irish indeed diiTereth 
so much from that they commonlie speake, that scarse one in fine 
hundred can either read, write, or vnderstand it. Therefore it is 
preserued among certeine of their poets and antiquaries. And in verie 
deed the language carrieth such diflicultie with it, what for the strange- 
nesse of the phrase, and the curious featnes of the pronuntiation, that a 
verie few of the countrie can atteine to the perfection thereof, and much 
lesse a forrener or stranger. 

A gentleman of mine acquaintance reported, that he did see a woman 
in Kome, which was possessed with a babling spirit, that could haue 
chatted anie language sauing the Irish ; and that it was so difficult, as 
the verie deueU. Avas gTauelled therewith. A gentleman that stood by 
answered, that he tooke the speech to be so sacred and holie, that no 
damned feend had the power to speake it ; no more than they are able 
to sale (as tjie report goeth) the verse of saint John the euangelist, ' Et 
verbum caro factum est.' Naie by God his mercie man (quoth the 
other) I stand in doubt (I tell you) whether the apostles in their 



544 STANIHURST Lect. XII. 

copious mart of languages at Jerusalem could haue spol^en Irish, if 
they were apposed : whereat the companie heartilie laughed. As fluent 
as the Irish toong is, yet it lacketh diuerse words, and borroweth them 
verbatim of the English. As there is no vulgar Irish word (vnlesse 
there be some od terme that lurketh in anie obscure shrowds or other 
of their storehouse) for a cote, a gowne, a dublet, an hat, a drinking 
cup : but onelie they vse the same words with a little inflexion. They 
vse also the contracted English phrase, God morrow, that is to sale, 
God giue you a good morning. 

The space I have devoted to Stanihurst may seem out of 
proportion to his merits ; but I have dwelt upon him as perhaps 
the most characteristic specimen of the very numerous, though 
short-lived, class to which he belongs — a class which has 
exercised a more important and, I must add, in the end bene- 
ficial, influence on the English language than appears to have 
been generally allowed. The straining after effect, which is so 
visible in these writers, led them to employ the widest voca- 
bulary within their reach, and to experiment upon all possible 
combinations of words. Their extravagances were soon made 
ridiculous by the purer style of the generation of authors which 
immediately followed them, and while they were, but for a very 
brief period, dangerous by the force of their example, their 
affluence and variety of diction long served as a repository of 
verbal wealth, which succeeding literature has largely drawn 
upon. 

I have spoken of the literary and philological affectation of 
Stanihurst's time, as having assumed its most elegant form in 
the works of Lillie, the Euphuist. Though the quality of style 
called Euphuism has more or less prevailed in all later periods 
of English literature, the name which designates it had become 
almost obsolete and forgotten, until Scott revived it in his 
character of Sir Piercie Shafton. The word is taken from 
Euphues,* the name of the hero of a tale by John Lillie, the 
first part of which is entitled Euphues, the anatomic of Wit ; 

* The Greek ^vd)vns means well-grown, symmetrical ; also clever, witty, and this 
is the sense in which Lillie applies it to his hero. 



Lect. XII. EUPHUISM . 545 

the second, Euphues and his England. Ifc consists of the his- 
tory and correspondence of a young Athenian, who, after 
spending some time in Italy, visits England, in the year 1579; 
and as this was the period when the author flourished, it was, 
of course, a story of the time of its appearance. The plot is a 
mere thread for an endless multitude of what were esteemed 
fine sayings to be strung upon, or, as Lillie himself expresses 
it, ' fine phrases, smooth quips, merry taunts, jesting without 
meane and mirth without measure.' The formal characteristics 
of Euphuism are alliteration and verbal antithesis. Its rhe- 
torical and intellectual traits will be better understood by an 
example, than by a critical analysis. An extract from the 
dedication of the second edition to the author's ^Very good 
friends, the Grentlemen Scholers of Oxford,' may serve as a spe- 
cimen. It is as follows : — 

There is no privilege that needeth a />ardon, neither is there any 
7'emission to be asked, where a commission is granted. I speake this, 
Gentlemen, not to excuse the cyTence which is taken, but to offer a 
(defence where I Avas mistaken. A cleare conscience is a sure card, truth 
hath the ^rerogatiue to speake with plainnesse, and the modesty to heare 
with jfjatience. It was reported of some, and beleueed of many, that in 
the education of Ephcebus, where mention is made of Uniuersities, that 
Oxford was to much either de/acec? or d.e.famed. I know not what the 
enuious have picked out by mahce, or the curious by wit, or the guilty 
by their own galled consciences ; but this I say, that I was as farre from 
thinking ill as I find them from iudging well. But if I should goe about 
to make amends, I were then faulty in somewhat amisse, and should shew 
my selfe like Apelles Prentice, who coueting to ?7iend the wose marred 
the ?zeck ; and not vnlike the foolish Dier, who neuer thought his cloth 
Jlack vntil it was turned. If any fault be committed, impute it to 
Euphues who knew you not, not to Lylie who hates you not. Yet I may 
of all the rest most condemne Oxford of vnkindnesse, of vice I cannot, 
who seemed to Aveane me before she brought me forth, and to giue me 
bones to gnaw before I could get the teat to suck. Wherein she played 
the nice mother, in sending me into the Country to nurse, where I tyred 
at a dry breast three yeeres, and was at the last enforced to weane my 
sehe. But it was destiny, for if I had not bin gathered from the tree 



546 . SIR PHILIP SIDNEY Lect. XII. 

in tlie bud, I should being blowne haue proued a blast : and as good it 
is to be an addle Egge, as an idle bird. 

Euplmes at his arriuall I am assured will view Oxford, where he 
will either recant his sayings, or renue his complaints : he is now on 
the seas ; and how he hath beene tossed I know not : but whereas I 
thought to receiue him at Doner, I must meet him at Hampton. 
Nothing can hinder his comming but death, neither anything hasten 
his departure but vnkindnesse. 

Concerning my selfe, I haue alwayes thought so reuerently of 
Oxford, of the Schollers, and of their manner, that I seemed to be 
rather an Idolater than a blasphemer. They that inuented this toy 
were vnwise, and they that reported it, vnkind, and yet none of them 
can proue me vnhonest. But suppose I glaunced at some abuses ; did 
not lupiters egge bring forth as well Helen a light huswife in earth 
as Castor a bright starre in heauen? The Estrich that taketh the 
greatest pride in her feathers, picked some blast : no countenance but 
hath some blemish ; and shall Oxford then be blameless ? I wish it 
were so, but I cannot think it is so. But as it is, it may be better : 
and were it badder, it is not the. worst. I thinke there are few Vni- 
uersities that haue lesse faults than Oxford, many that haue more, none 
but haue some. But I commit my cause to the consciences of those 
that either know what I am, or can guesse what I should be : the one 
will answer themselues in construing iriendly, the other if I knew them, 
I would satisfie reasonably. 

Thus loth to incur the suspicion of vnkindnesse in not telling my 
mind, and not willing to make any excuse where there needs no 
amends, I can neither craue pardon, lest I should confesse a fault, nor 
conceale my meaning, lest I should be thought a foole. And so I end 
yours assured to use. 

The success of Euphues was very great. The work was 
lono- a vade-mecum with the fashionable world, and considered 
a model of elegance in writing and the highest of authorities in 
all matters of courtly and polished speech. It contains, with all 
its affectations, a great multitude of acute observations, and just 
and even profound thoughts ; and it was these striking qualities, 
not less than the tinsel of its style, which commended it to the 
practical good sense of contemporary England. 

The style of Sir Philip Sidney, one of the brightest ornaments 
of the elegant prose literature of his day, is not a little affected 



Lect. XIL stlvesteh 547 

by the prevalent taste for the conceits of euphuism, though he 
introduces them much less frequently than Lillie ; for they form 
the staple of Lillie's diction, while they are but occa,sional 
blemishes in that of Sidney. Sidney is, however, much less 
dexterous and graceful in the use of alliteration, consonance, 
and antithesis^ than the great improver, if not the inventor, of 
this artificial style. With Sir Philip, they are so laboured and 
unnatural, as almost always to produce an appearance of clumsi- 
ness and want of skill, rather than of mastery, in a trifling art ; 
v>^hile from the pen of Lillie they flow as easily as if he could 
speak no other dialect. 

Sidney's tedious romance, the Arcadia, much admired v/hen 
first published, is now deservedly almost forgotten ; but his in- 
genious and eloquent Defence of Poesy will always maintain a 
high place in the sesthetical literature of England. It is not 
only an earnest and persuasive argument, but is, in style and 
diction, the best secular prose yet written in England, and 
indeed the earliest specimen of real critical talent in the lite- 
rature. 

The poems of Sidney, though relatively less remarkable than 
the Defence of Poesy, and more frequently disfigured by trivial 
conceits, are, nevertlieless, conspicuous for propriety and elegance 
of laDguage, and ease and grace of versification. Some of them 
are in classic metres, but the best perhaps are those fashioned 
after Italian models, and especially the sonnets. But the re- 
semblance of these poems to those v>rhose versification and stanza 
they imitate is, as in the case of Surrey, formal merely; for 
they are English, not Italian, in thought, and their diction has 
borrowed nothing from the language of Italy. 

The favour of the English public was next divided between 
two authors, one of whom is now almost wholly forgotten, and 
the other is, after a temporary oblivion, now again reviving and 
recovering his just position as one of the greatest of English 
poets. I refer to Sylvester, the traoslator of the works of Du 
Bartas, a contemporary French writer, and to Spenser, the 

H N 2 



548 SPENSER Lect. XII» 

author of the Faery Queene, the Shepherd's Calendar, and other 
minor works. 

The principal poem of Du Bartas, which is a history of the 
Creation, was written in a sufficiently inflated style ; but this 
was exaggerated by Sylvester, who added many peculiarities of 
his own, such, among others, as compound, or rather agglutinated, 
words made up of half a dozen radicals.* Its poetical merit is 
slender, but the translation is not v/ithout philological interest, 
because it contains a considerable number of words and forms, 
of which examples are hardly to be met with elsewhere, and 
there are passages which serve as commentaries and explanations 
of obscure expressions in Shakespeare, and other dramatic 
authors of the time. It is, however, difficult to understand how 
an age that produced a Shakespeare could bestow such un- 
bounded applause on a Du Bartas and a Sylvester. 

Spenser was reproached in his own time with an excess of 
archaisms; but^ the, real fault of his diction lies rather in the 
use of forms and expressions which had become obsolete because 
they deserved to perish, for which no good authority could be 
cited, and which were, probably, unauthorized coinages of the 
inferior poets from whom Spenser took them, or in many cases 
perhaps licenses of his own. In the employment of words of 
these classes, he is often far from happy, but in the mastery of 
the true English of his time, in acute sensibility of ear and 
exquisite skill in the musical arrangement of words, he has no 
superior in the whole compass of English literature. 

It does not come within my plan to criticise the allegory of 
the Faery Queene, and indeed he must be a superstitious critic, 
whom the defects of the plot, and its allegorical character, deter 
from enjoying the endless beauties of detail with which this 
most charming poem overflows. 

. The most striking peculiarity of Spenser's diction is analogous 
to that which I have before mentioned as one of Chaucer's 
greatest merits — a rare felicity in verbal combinations — and in 

* See First Series, Lecture ix. p. 204. 



Lect. XII. bacon's essays 549 

Spenser it chiefly consists in a very nice sense of congruity in 
the choice and application of epithets. His adjectives not only 
qualify the noun, but they are so adapted to it, that they 
heighten or intensify its appropriate meaning ; and they are 
often used with a reference to the radical sense of the noun, 
which shows that Spenser knew how to press even etymology 
into use as a means of the embellishment of poetical diction. 

The Faery Queene is at present more studied, I believe, than 
it was a century since ; but the Shepherd's Calendar, which is 
less familiarly known, is full of most exquisite poetry, and the 
minor works of Spenser are scarcely less interesting to the 
reader of taste, and to the philologist, than his great allegorical 
epic. 

Most of the works of Lord Bacon belono- to the followino- 
century, and therefore do not come within the period to which 
our inquiries are limited ; but Bacon's most popular and most 
immediately influential production, his Essays, appeared in 
1596, and there is scarcely a volume in the whole prose litera- 
ture of England, which is, more emphatically, at once a product 
of the English intellect, and an agency in the history of English 
practical ethics. The style of the Essays is very attractive, 
though never pedantically exact, and often even negligent, in 
its observance of the rules of grammatical concord and regimen ; 
but though many Latinized words are introduced, even its 
solecisms are English, and it is, in all probability, a fair picture 
of the language used at that time by men of the highest culture, 
in the conversational discussion of questions of practical philo- 
sophy, or what the G-ermans call luorld-iuisdom. It is didactic 
in character, and though it offered nothing new to the English 
heart, it revealed much to the English consciousness, of that 
day. It is a formulating of the living ethics and social opinions 
of the cultivated Briton of Elizabeth's age, a distinct expression 
of sentiments and of principles which the nation had been 
trained to act upon, though most often no doubt unconsciously ; 
and its immediate success was owing to its immediate and 



550 ENGLISH aEAMMAKS Lect. XII. 

universal recognition as an embodiment of the national law of 
life, which all had felt, but none had yet presented to the mind 
in a recorded objective form. 

We have now followed the great current of the English 
speech to near the point where we propose to terminate our 
investigations ; but there are several tributaries and sources of 
its philological improvement, which require a somewhat detailed 
examination before our survey can be said to be approximately 
complete. 

The revival of the study of classical literature, after a short 
suspension, and the impulse which had been given to modern 
philology by the publication of Palsgrave's French Grrammar, 
led to the production of a considerable number of English 
grammars. These have now become exceedingly rare, and are 
almost forgotten. So far as I can judge from the fevf I have 
seen, the writers, misled by their partiality for the ancient 
languages and literature, occupied themselves less with inquiry 
into the facts and principles of English philology, than v/ith 
speculations upon improvements which might be introduced 
into the syntax and orthography of their native speech. They 
are seldom to be relied upon as evidence with regard to the 
actual practice of the best native writers, and still less, as to the 
true theory of the English tongue. The great authors of the 
fourteenth and earlier centuries w^ere little studied, Anglo-Saxon 
was forgotten, and the cognate languages of Grermany and the 
North were almost unknown. Hence these treatises, instead of 
being, as all grammars ought to be, chiefly historical, are specu- 
lative, and designed to effect a reform or re-construction of the 
language. Even Ben Jonson's grammar — which is known to 
us only in a sketch or abridgment, the manuscript of the com- 
plete work having been destroyed by fire — though a learned 
and able production, is, in many particulars, not sustained by 
the practice of good authors or even by his own.* 

In one respect, however, these old grammars are interesting, 

* See First Series, Lecture v. p. 108. 



Lect. XII. CEITICISM AND THEOET 551 

if not harmonious and intelligible enough to be really instruc- 
tive. I refer to their theories of orthography and pronunciation, 
which are curious and often ingenious. But phonology was not 
then known as a science, the radical sounds had not yet been 
analyzed, and the writers were generally ignorant of the orthoepy 
of the Grothic languages. Besides this, the pronunciation of 
English was strangely discordant in different shires, and it is 
impossible to reconcile these orthoepists with each other or with 
themselves.* 

Many eminent native scholars, such for example as Ascham, 
systematically decried the English language as a barbarous 
jargon incapable of polish or refinement, and unfit to be the 
vehicle of the inspirations of poetry, or of elegant literature in 
prose. Sidney, much to his honour, defends the capacities of 
the English tongue for the highest culture, and it is a striking 
proof of his philological insight, that he was among the first of 
modern scholars to perceive the advantage of an uninflected 
structure, and of a syntax founded directly on the logical, not 
the formal, relation of words.f 

Though Ascham was theoretically opposed to the employment 
of English for literary purposes, or even in discussing the simple 
and popular subject of archery, yet he shov/ed no inconsiderable 
power in the use of it, and his Schoolmaster, as well as his other 
English writings, were highly u.seful in his time, and were, in 
all respects, important contributions to the literature of that age. 

Artistic theory and criticism have been plants of slow growth 
in English literature. As I have said in relation to morals, the 
Englishman, in every branch of mental as well as of physical 
effort, inclines to action rather than to speculation. He trusts 
to his instincts and his common sense to guide him, and leaves 
it to others to philosophise upon the organic principles which 

* See First Series, Lecture, xxii. 

t For the opinions of Ascham on the English language, and for those of 
other scholars of his and the immediately preceding centuries, see First Series, 
Lecture xxi. pp. 444, M5 ; for those of Sidney, see same volume, Lecture iv. 

p. as. 



552 CRITICISM AND THEORY Lect. XII. 

have dete]-mined the shape and character of his productions. 
The age of Elizabeth, however, gave birth to some works in 
critical and artistical theory. One of the most conspicuous of 
these is Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, first published in 
1589. It is, as the author expresses it, ' Contriued into three 
Bookes : The first of Poets and Poesie, the second of Propor- 
tion, the third of Ornament.' This treatise shows some learning 
and some observation, but no very accurate critical appreciation 
of the authors it attempts to characterise. As to the more con- 
spicuous ornaments of old English literature, it is true, posterity 
has confirmed many of Puttenham's judgments, at least as to 
the relative rank of the authors, though not always for his 
reasons. But, on the other hand, he speaks of the dull rhyming 
chronicler, Harding, as ' a Poet Epick or Historicall,' who 
* handled himselfe well according to the time and maner of 
his subiect;' he extravagantly commends many of his now 
forgotten contemporaries, and concludes his meagre list of those 
*who in any age haue bene the most commended writers in 
oure English Poesie,' with this ' censure' upon Queen Elizabeth : 
'But last in recitall and first in degree is the Queen e, our 
soueraigne Lady, whose learned, delicate, noble Muse, easily 
surmounteth all the rest that haue writte before her time or 
since, for sence, sweetnesse and subtillitie, be it in Ode, Elegie, 
Epigram, or any other kinde of poeme, Heroick or Lyricke, 
wherein it shall please her Maiestie to employ her penne, euen 
by as much oddes as her owne excellent estate and degree 
exceedeth all the rest of her most humble vassalls.' 

The most valuable part of this work is that which treats of 
the formal requisites of poetry, and especially of versification, 
because it throws a good deal of light on the pronunciation of 
that age-^a subject respecting which we are far from being 
well informed. When, however, we compare these chapters of 
Puttenham with what had long before been accomplished in 
the Eomance languages in the same branch of criticism — for 
example, with the Provenpal Flors del Gray Saber, estier dichas 



Lect. XII. TRANSLATIO^'S 553 

Las Leys d' Amors, of the fourteenth century, pubHshed by 
Gatien Arnoult — we must admit that the technicalities of the 
poetic art, if instinctively practised, had been as yet but imper- 
fectly discussed in England. 

The Eeformation, as has been before observed, had occasioned 
the translation of many moral and religious works from the 
Latin, and thereby enriched the theological dialect. Some 
essays in the translation of secular Latin and Grreek authors 
were made in the early part of the sixteenth century ; but the 
reaction against classical learning, which succeeded to the im- 
pulse given to it by the Eeformation, checked this branch of 
literary effort, and not man 3^ further attempts were made in it 
until the study of Grreek and Latin came again into vogue after 
the accession of Elizabeth. Versions of ancient authors, Latin 
especially, w^ere now made in great numbers, and there are few 
waiters of eminence in the literature of Eome, not many in that 
of Greece, who did not receive an English dress. 

Notwithstanding all that has been said, by Johnson and 
others, upon the influence of translation in corrupting language, 
I believe there is no one source of improvement to which 
English is so much indebted, as to the versions of classical 
authors which were executed between the middle of the six- 
teenth century and the death of Elizabeth. English, though 
much enriched, was still wanting in copiousness, and there 
existed no such acquaintance with Anglo-Saxon that any of its 
defects could be supplied from that source. Hence Latin and 
French vrere the only fountains from which scholars could draw, 
and translations from those languages not only introduced new 
words, but what was scarcely less important, new combinations 
of words for expressing complex ideas. 

They performed still another very signa-l service, which has 
been almost v/holly overlooked by writers who have treated of 
the philological history of England. The variety of subjects 
discussed, and of styles employed by the classical writers, 
obliged the translators, not only to borrow or to coin ne\Y words. 



554 TEANSLATIONS Lect. XII. 

where no native terms existed for the expression of the thoughts 
they sought to render, but to seek, in English literature new 
and old, in popular speech, and in the nomenclature of the 
liberal and the mechanical arts, domestic equivalents for a vast 
multitude of words, whose places could not be supplied by the 
transference of Latin terms, because these would have been 
unintelligible. Hence these translations did not merely enrich 
the language by an infusion of new philological elements, but 
they gathered up, recorded, and thus preserved for future study 
and use, the whole extent of the vocabulary then known to the 
English nation. This process is particularly observable in the 
old versions of the more encyclopedic authors, such as Plutarch's 
Lives and his Morals. The Lives were translated by North, 
about the middle of Elizabeth's reign, from the admirable 
French version of Amyot, and though occasional errors in 
rendering were committed by both Amyot, and North, the 
style of Plutarch is upon the whole more faithfully repre- 
sented by this old and quaint version than by any of the 
later attempts. 

Pliny's Natural History and Plutarch's Morals came iater. 
They, as well as Livy and some other voluminous Latin works, 
were translated by Philemon Holland, at about the close of 
Elizabeth's reign, and they constitute an inexhaustible mine 
of linguistic wealth. Pliny's Natural History wa.s designed as 
a complete treatise upon all the branches of material knowledge 
known to the ancient world. The learning of the Grreeks and 
Romans on these subjects was very little inferior to that of 
England in Elizabeth's time, and few branches of science, or of 
practical art, were at all cultivated at that period, which are 
not represented and fully discussed by Pliny. Hence the trans- 
lation of the Natural History required the employment of the 
entire English nomenclature of physical learning and of mecha- 
nical craft. Holland's version exhausts the technical vocabulary 
of his age, thus gathering, in a single volume, the whole of the 
material side of the English language, and constituting the 



Iect. XII. TRANSLATIONS 555 

most valuable and comprehensive source of information upon 
old English names of processes, of things, and of the sensuous 
properties of things, which exists in a collected form. 

The most celebrated translators of Latin verse in Elizabeth's 
time were Phaer or Phaier, and Grolding. The former ^tra- 
duced,' as some old writers have" it, the first nine books of 
Virgil's ^neid, and the latter, with more ability, translated 
Ovid's Metamorphoses and many other Latin works, in prose as 
well as verse. Of Master Phaer, I suppose my readers will 
not care to know more, after perusing Virgil's account of the 
building of Carthage by the ]\Ioors under Queen Dido, as 
Englished by him : — 

The Moores with courage went to worke, 

some Tnder burdens grones : 
Some at the wals and towrs with hands 

were tumbling vp the stones. 
Some measurd out a place to build 

their mansion house within : 
Some lawes and officers to make 

in parlment did begin. 
An other had an hauen cast, 

and deepc they trench the ground, 
Some other for the games and plaies 

a statehe place had found. 
And pillers great they cut for kings, 

to garnish foorth their wals, 
And like as bees among the iloiu'S, 

when fresh the summer fals, 
In shine of sunne applie their worke, 

when growne is vp their joong : 
Or when their hiues they gin to stop, 

and honie sweet is sproong, 
That all their caues and cellars close 

with dulcet liquor ills, 
Some doo outlade, some other bring 

the stufre with readie -wils. 
Sometime they ioine, and all at onco 

doo from their mano^ers fet 



556 TRANSLATIONS Lect. XIL 

The slothful drones, that would consume, 

and nought would doo to get. 
The worke it heats, the honie smels, 

of flours and thime ywet, &c. &c. 

Grolding's Ovid is a spirited and creditable work, and at that 
date, 1567, the condition of the language would hardly have 
admitted of a better. Y/arton bestows well-merited praise on 
his version of the transformation of Athamas and Ino in the 
fourth book of the Metamorphoses, and there are many other 
passages not inferior in excellence. 

I cannot say so much in favour of G-olding's Epistle or Dedi- 
cation — a summary, or rhymed table of contents, of his 
author — or of his Preface to the Eeader, supposed by Warton 
to have been designed for the comfort of the ' weaker Puritans,' 
or ^ simple sort,' as Golding calls them, who might be scandal- 
ised at the heathen profanity and idolatry of Ovid. If the 
Puritans of that day thought Ovid forbidden fruit, and were 
' simple ^ enough to be converted to a belief in the lawfulness of 
reading him by no better arguments than Golding's, they must 
have been ' weak ' indeed ; and I suspect stout John Knox — 
Grolding's contemporary, and perhaps his countryman* — would 
have required stronger logic to persuade him of the innocence 
of anything he held to be wrong. 

During the period we are considering, the English language 
received numerous and important accessions from travel and 
commerce, which were enlarging with the rapid progress of 
geographical discover}^ Many descriptive accounts of foreign 
countries were printed, and the public curiosity welcomed with 
avidity narratives of adventure and observation in distant lands. 
Foreigners from remote nations visited England, new wares 
were introduced, the tropical world had been recently opened 

* I do not know upon kow good authority AYarton pronounces Golding to have 
been a native of London. The epistle is dated at * Barwickc,' and in my copy, 
London, 1595, a manuscript note, in an old hand, states that Golding was *a 
Scot' 



Lect. XII. TEAYEL AND COMMERCE 557 

to Christian observation, and new stores of natural knowledge 
flowed in from regions whicli had been unknown to Europe 
from the commencement of the historical era. 

The Fardle of Facions, a description of the manners and 
customs of the different nations of the world, translated from 
the Latin and printed about the year 1550, is one of the earliest 
and most curious books of this class, and, for its extent, philo- 
logically one of the most interesting. It was soon succeeded by 
more voluminous works in the same department, among which 
the most valuable are, the Decades of Peter Martyr, the travels 
of Vertomannus in the East, and some other works which were 
reprinted about fifty years ago in a quarto volume intended as 
a siipplem.ent to Hakluyt. But these are all surpassed in im- 
portance by Hakluyt's collection of voyages and travels, first 
published in 1589, which not only exhibits a great range of 
vocabular}^, but contains many narratives of no small degree of 
literary merit. 

It is perhaps to the excited curiosity produced by these works 
that we are to ascribe, in part at least, the progress which the 
study of the Oriental languages, the Arabic especially, made in 
England in the sixteenth century. The knowledge of Arabic pro- 
moted that of the cognate Hebrev/, and the effects of this learn- 
ing are visible in the revision of the English Scriptures by the 
translators appointed by King James, several of whom possessed 
an amount of Oriental learning rare in later ages of English 
literary history. 

There are also certain other branches of knowledge, or, at 
least, of study, which, though specialities, nevertheless exerted 
a considera^ble influence upon the geneml .language both of 
common life and of books. I refer to the nomenclature of 
natural science, of alchemy, of astrology, and of the professions 
of medicine and the law. These, indeed, are not generally 
regarded as embraced in the term literature, but abundant 
traces of them are found in literature ; for it has been seriously 
argued, from Shakespeare's familiarity with legal terms, that 



558 SCIENTIFIC STUDIES Lect. XII. 

he must have been an attorney's clerk, at the least, if not a 
practising lawyer, just as similar evidence has been cited to 
prove that he was a good classical scholar and an experienced 
navigator, and, as it might be, to show that he was a medical 
man, because he makes one of his characters say that ' parmacity 
was good for an inward bruise.' 

In the sixteenth century speculation was rife in all the 
pursuits I have mentioned ; and by virtue of that common 
bond which has long been recognised as existing between all 
knowledges, and more especially in consequence of the change- 
fulness of this restless modern life of ours, there is a perpetual 
intermingling and amalgamation of all classes, professions, and 
dialects. The result is that the technical words of every science, 
every art, are continually wandering out from the laboratory 
and the workshop, and incorporating themselves into the com- 
mon speech of the ignorant as well as of the learned ; and there 
is scarcely a human pursuit from which the every-day language 
of England has not borrowed, appropriated, and generalised 
more or fewer terms of art. 

Although, as I have often remarked, the dialect of theology 
was a special nomenclature, yet the fact, that theology Avas 
studied as a branch of general education, made its dialect more 
familiar than that of any other single art or science, and 
through the sixteenth century it maintained its relative impor- 
tance as an elevating, refining, and at the same time enriching, 
and essentially progressive influence. Besides a vast mass of 
strictly professional works in the department of theology, the 
last half of the sixteenth century produced numerous editions 
and revisals of the English Scriptures, the universal circulation 
of which influenced the speech of England in a variety of ways, 
but most especially in counteracting the tendency of secular 
literature to the adoption of a Latinised phraseology and syntax; 
for all the Protestant English versions of the Bible are ulti- 
mately founded on Wycliffe, and are all remarkable for the 
purity of their Anglo-Saxon diction. 



Lect. XII. THEOLOGY 559 

Next in importance to tlie translations of ttie Bible as a con- 
servative influence in English philology, we must rank the 
litm'gy of the Anglican church, which, in its various forms, 
belongs to the reign of Edward VI. and Elizabeth. The diction 
of this ritual is as conspicuous for the Anglo-Saxon character of 
the style as the English Bibles, and the daily repetition of por- 
tions of its contents, by almost the whole population of England, 
could not but have had a powerful effect in fashioning the speech, 
and tincturing the written dialect, of the English people. 

The diction of theology, porhaps I should say of English 
prose, reached its highest point of excellence in the works of 
Hooker, the first four books of whose Ecclesiastical Polity were 
printed in 1594, the fifth in 1597. The st3de of Hooker is 
sometimes unnecessarily involved and obscure, and he is fond of 
Latinisms, both in words and in the arrangement of his periods. 
One of the latter class is the inversion by which the participle 
in the compound tenses, and the adjective, precede the nomina- 
tive, as, for example : ' Brought already we are even to that 
estate which Grregorie Nazianzen mournefullie describeth ; ' 
* able vve are not to deny, but that we have deserved the hatred 
of the heathen; ' ^Dangerous it were for the feeble braine of man 
to wade farre into the doings of the most High.' This is the 
usual Latin order of arrangement, and it was a favorite construc- 
tion with all the translators of the period we are considerino-. 
Hooker is perhaps the first English prose writer who exhibits 
philosophical precision and uniformity in the use of words, and 
this is the peculiarity of his style which gives it its greatest 
philological value. This nicety of discrimination he extends 
even to particles, a remarkable instance of which is the distinc- 
tion between siiJi and sithence, or since, the former being always 
an illative or argumentative word, the latter sim^ply narrative, 
indicating time after, I cannot say that this distinction was* 
invented by Hooker, but it certainly is not much older than his 
time, though a tendency tov/ards it begins to be observable soon 
after the middle of the sixteenth century. Hooker is, so far aa 



560 HOOKER Lbct. XII. 

I know, the only important Englisli author who constantly 
observes this very important logical difference, though, indeed, 
it is not often overlooked by his contemporaries, Spenser and 
Sylvester. Hooker's periods are sometimes cumbrous and in- 
volved, partly from the influence of his devotion to Latin theo- 
logical literature, and partly from his desire to accompany his 
general propositions with the conditions, qualifications, and 
limitations belonging to them ; but he has many passages of the 
most admirable rhetorical beauty, and of a luusical flow not less 
melodious than that of the periods of Milton. 

I have observed that no great English writer has ever been 
v/holly able to suppress the quality of humour. Hooker would 
be claimed as an exception, and in truth he is one of the gravest 
of authors, but one cannot but suspect that a smile is lurking 
under some of the illustrations which accompany his most serious 
arguments. Thus, having declared that Grod works nothing 
without cause, he instances the creation of woman, which he 
intimates was an afterthought, and declares that God's ' will had 
never inclined ' to perform it, ' but that he saw it could not be 
wel, if she were not created.' In this, he seems to have meant 
a half jocose expression of the same sentiments to which John 
Knox had, not many years before, given such passionate utter- 
rance in his ungenerous, but very eloquent First Blast of the 
Trumpet against the monstrous Eegiment of Women. 

Hooker's works are a chain from which it is hard to detach a 
link, without a fracture. The continuity of his style is one of 
its merits, and no very good idea of his manner is to be gained 
from single paragraphs. There are two or three regular stock 
quotations from Hooker, which are always produced as samples, 
when his literary merits are under discussion, and they are 
therefore somewhat familiar to the ^reading public;' but I am 
afraid there are many D.D.s, whose only knowledge of this 
great writer is deiived from those passages. I can afiford space 
only for the second chapter of the first book of the ' Ecclesiasticall 
Politic,' which I print from the rare edition of 1594. 



Lect. XII. HOOKER 561 

All tilings tliat are haue some operation not violent or casnall. 
Neither dotli any tiling ener begin to exercise tlie same without some 
foreconceaned ende for which it worketh. And the eiide which it 
worketh for is not obteined, vnlcsse the Avorke be also fit to obteine it 
by. For vnto ciiery ende euery operation will not serne. That which 
doth assigne vnto each thing the kinde, that vdiicli doth moderate the 
force and power, that which doth appoint the forme and measure of 
working, the same we tearme a Lawe. So that no certaine end could 
euer be attained, vnlesse the actions whereby it is attained were regular, 
that is to say, made suteable fit and correspondent vnto their end, by 
some Canon rule or lawe. Which thing doth first take place in the 
workes euen of God himselfe. All things therefore do worke after a 
sort according to lawe : all other things according to a lawe, whereof 
some superiour, vnto whonie they are subiect, is author; only the 
workes and operations of God haue him both for their worker, and 
for the lawe whereby they are v/rought. The being of God is a kinde 
of lavv^e to his working : for that perfection which God is, geueth 
perfection to that he doth. Those naturall, necessary, and internal 
operations of God, the generation of the Sonne, ihQ proceeding of the 
Spirit, are without the compasse of my present intent : which is to 
touch only such operations as haue their beginning and being by a 
voluntarie purpose, wherewith God hath eternally decreed when and 
howe they should be. Which eternall decree is that wee tearme an 
eternall lawe. Dangerous it were for the feeble braine of man to wade 
farre into the doings of the most High, whome although to knowe be 
life, and ioy to make mention of his name : yet our soundest know- 
ledge is to know that we know him not as in deed he is, neither can 
know him : and our safest eloquence concerning him is our silence, 
when we confesse without confession that his glory is inexplicable, his 
greatnes aboue our capacitie and reach. He is aboue, and we vpon 
earth, therefore it behoueth our T\^ordes to be warie and fewe. Our 
God is one, or rather verie onenesse, and iiieere vnitie, hauing nothing 
but it selfe in it selfe, and not consisting (as all things do besides God) 
of many things. In which essential vnitie of God a Trinitie personall 
iieuerthelesse subsisteth after a iiianer far exceeding the possibilitie 
of man's conceipt. The works which outwardly are of God, they are 
in such sort of him being one, that each person hath in them somewhat 
peculiar and proper. For being three, and they all subsisting in the 
essence of one dcitie ; from the Father, by the Sonne, through the 
Spirit all things are. That which the Sonne doth lieare of the Father, 
and which the Spirit doth receiue of the Father & the Sonne, the sama 





562 HOOKEH ^ Lect. XIL 

we haue at the liads of the Spirit as being the last, and therfore 
the neerest vnto vs in order, although in power the same with the 
second and the first. The wise and learned among the verie Hea- 
thens themselnes, haue all acknowledged some first cause, whereupon 
originallie the being of all things dependeth. Neither haue they 
otherwise spoken of that cause, then as an Agent, which knowing 
what and why it worketh obserueth in working a most exact order 
or lawe. Thus much is signified by that which Homer mentioneth, 
A(oc dereXeiero (jovXrj. Thus much acknowledged by Mercurius Tris- 
megist. TOi' Travra Koafxov 1'koii](tev 6 h^ixiovpyoQ oh '^epcriv uWcl \6yu). 
Thus much cofest by Anaxago. and Plato, terming the maker of the 
world an Intellectual worker. Finallie the Stoikes, although imagining 
the first cause of all things to be fire, held neuerthelesse that the same 
fire hauing arte, did dho) jSa^ii^eiv e-n-i yeviau koctjjlov. They all cceifesse 
therfore in the working of that first cause, that counsell is vsed, reason 
followed, a ivay obserued, that is to say, constant order and law is kept, 
whereof it selfe must needs be author vnto it selfe. Otherwise it 
should haue some Avorthier and higher to direct it, and so could not it 
selfe be the first. Being the first, it can haue no other then it selfe to 
be the author of that lav/ which it willingly worketh by. God there- 
fore is a laAV both to himselfe, and to all other things besides. To 
himselfe he is a law in all those things, whereof our Sauiour speaketh, 
saying, My Father ivorheth as yet, so I. God worketh nothing without 
cause. All those things which are done by him, haue some ende for 
which they are done : and the ende for which they are done, is a reason 
of his will to do them. His will had not inclined to create woman, 
but that he saw it could not be wel if she were not created, J\^on est 
honwn, It is not good man shoidd he alone. Therefore let vs make an 
helper t>i* him. That and nothing else is done by God, which to leaue 
vndone were not so good. If therfore it be demanded, why God 
hauing power and habilitie infinite, th' eiFects notwithstading of that 
power are all so limited as Ave see they are : the reason hereof is the 
end which he hath proposed, and the lawe Avhereby his Avisedome hath 
stinted th' effects of his poAver in such sort, that it doth not Avorke 
infinitely but correspodently vnto that end for Avhich it Avorketh, euen 
al things xp^^'^^c, in most decent and comely sort, all things in measure, 
number, and luaight. The generall end of Gods externall Avorking is 
the exercise of his most glorious and most abundant vertue : Which 
abundance doth sheAV it selfe in varietie, and for that cause this 
varietie is oftentimes in Scripture exprest by the name of riches. The 
Lord hath made all things for his owne sake. Not that any thing is 



Lect. XII. HOOKER 563 

made to be beneficiall vnto liim, but all tilings for Inm to shew bene- 
ficence and grace in tliem. Tlie particular drift of euery acte pro- 
ceeding externallj from God, we are not able to discerne, and therefore 
cannot ahvaies giue tlie proper and certaine reason of his works. How- 
beit vndoubtedly a proper and certaine reason there is of eueiy finite 
worke of God, in as much as there is a law imposed vpon it ; which if 
there were not, it should be infinite euen as the worker himselfe is. 
They erre therefore who thinke that of the will of God to do this or 
that, there is no reason besides his will. Many times no reason knowne 
to vs ; but that there is no reason thereof, I iudge it most vnreasonable 
to imagine, in as much as he worketh all things /caret rijv (oovXip^ rov 
^e\r]{.iaTO(; civrov, not only according to his owne will, but the counsell 
of his owne ivill. And whatsoeuer is done with counsell or wise reso- 
lution, hath of necessitie some reason why it should be done, albeit 
that reason be to vs in some things so secret, that it forceth the wit of 
man to stand, as the blessed Apostle himself doth, amazed thereat, 
the depth of the riches both of the luisdome and knowledge of God^ How 
vnsearchahle are his iudgements, ^*c. That law eternall which God 
himself hath made to himselfe, and thereby worketh all things wherof 
he is the cause and author, that law in the admirable frame wherof 
shineth with most perfect bcwtie the countenance of that wisedome 
which hath testified concerning her self. The lord possessed me in the 
herjinning of his icay, euen before his icorks of old, I ivas set vp, ^-c. 
That law which hath bene the patterne to make, and is the card to guide 
the world by ; that law which hath bene of God, and with God euer- 
lastingiy : that law the author and obseruer whereof is one only God 
to be blessed for euer, how should either men or Angels be able per- 
fectly to behold? The booke of this law we are neither able nor 
worthie to open and looke into. That little thereof which we darkly 
apprehend, we admire, the rest Avith religious ignorance we humbly and 
meekly adore. Seeing therfore that according to this law he Avorketh, 
of zvhcm, through ivhom, and for ivhom are all things, although there 
seeme vnto vs cofusion and disorder in th' affaires of this present 
world : Tamen quoniam bonus mundum rector temper-at, recte fieri 
cuncta ne dubites, Let no ma doubt but that euery thing is well done, 
because the world is ruled by so good a guide, as transgresseth not his 
owne law, then which nothing can be more absolute, perfect & iust. 
The law whereby he worketh, is eternall, and therefore can haue no 
shew or cullor of mutabilitie : for which cause a part of that laAV being 
opened in the promis:6s which God hath made (because his promises are 
nothing else but declarations what God will do for the good of men) 

o o 2 



564 DRAMATIC DICTION Lect. XIL 

toucMng those promises the Apostle liatli witnessed, tliat God may as 
possibly deny himselfe and not be God, as faile to performe tliem. And 
cocerning the counsel of God, he termeth it likewise a thing vnchange^ 
able, the counsell of God, and that law of God Avhereof now we speake 
being one. Nor is the fi-eedom of the wil of God any whit abated, let 
or hindered by meanes of this, because the imposition of this law vp5 
himself is his own free and volutary act. This law therfore we may 
name eternall, being that order which God before cdl ages hath set 
down ivith himselfe^ for himselfe to do all things by. 

I have now shown how the vocabularies of many branches of 
English literature had been gradually increased in copiousness, 
their diction refined and polished, and their grammar simplified ; 
but there is still one department — and that, considered simply 
in its literary aspects, the highest — in which hitherto compara- 
tively little had been accomplished. I mean that modification 
of the colloquial language of actual life, which Vv^as required to 
fit it for employment in the scenic representation of the various 
phases and conditions of humanity, as they are conceived and 
interpreted by the great masters of the dramatic art. 

In popular farces, and in merely occasional theatrical 
pieces intended to serve a special temporary purpose, the collo- 
quial language of the day may properly be employed ; but in 
dramas designed for permanent existence, the diction of the 
dialogue must be of a more enduring and less changeable cha- 
racter than the speech of the hour, which is always more 
coloured by fleeting and superficial influences than is usually 
supposed by those who have not made the actual language of 
life a study.* 

* Every generation, every year almost, lias its pet words, applications, forms, 
and combinations, originating now in some accidental circumstance, now in some 
theory, early association, habit, or caprice of a favourite writer, which, for the 
time, constitute tins'ghtly excrescences upon the body of the speech, but finally 
drop off and are forgotten. To take single words : it is difficult at this moment 
to find a page in a popular French writer, which does not contain the word 
preoccuper, or some of its derivatives. On the other side of the Channel, I 
must instance a more unfortunate case. The epithet lovdy can fitly be used only 
of beings capable of exciting, by their moral and physical perfections, the passion 



Lect. XI l dkamatic diction 565 

It is a proof of the acuteness of the English dramatists who 
lived a little before, and with, Shakespeare, that they perceived 
the necessity of a style somewhat removed from the vernacular 
speech of their time ; but it is also a proof of the weakness of 
their judgment, tha.t, instead of adopting a phraseology which 
was natural, idiomatic, and permanent, without being local or 
vulgar, they invented a conventional style of expression, which 
not only never was used in real society, but which never could 
be, without a violation of the laws both of language and of 
thought. The dialect of tragedy is not the style which men on 
the stage of life, influenced as they are by temporary and acci- 
dental conditions of speech, actually use, but it is the diction 
which, according to the permanent and essential genius of the 
language, and the supposed moral and intellectual categories of 
the personages, constitutes the truest and most precise expres- 
sion of the thoughts and purposes which animate them. 

Although ^the phraseology which the earlier English play- 
wrights put into the mouths of their personages is in a high 
degree unnatural and inappropriate, yet in the wide variety of 
their characters, and of the circumstances in which they placed 
them, they not unfrequently unwittingly strayed into a fit and 
expressive stjde, and thus there was gradually accumulated a 
fragmentary and scattered store of material for a copious and 
multifarious dramatic diction. 

of love, and, at the same time, of reciprocating it. That only is IgvcIi/ which is 
both loreable and loyiug. In tlie affectation and exaggeration ■which so often 
characterizes the phraseology of polite society, this unhappy word was seized 
upon and generalized in its application, and it soon became the one epithet of com- 
mendation in young ladies' seminaries and similar circles, where it was and is 
applied indiscriminately to all pleasing material objects, from a piece of plum- 
cake to a Gothic cathedral. Euskin unluckily adopted this school-girl triyiality, 
and, by the popularity of his writings, has made it almost tiniTersal, thereby 
degrading, Tulgarizing, and depriving of its true significance, one of the noblest 
words in the English language. 

In satirical comedy such abuses of language may very well be introduced, for 
the sake of pillorying them. Shakespeare — whose comedy is not in tlie technical 
sense satirical — has a few examples of this sort, the most mark rd being in the 
case of the word clement in the first scene of the third act of Twelfth Night, to 
"Vfhich I have referred on a former occasion. 



566 THE BEITISH NATION Lect. XII. 

In speaking of the relations of Chaucer to his time and to 
the earlier literature of the language, I observed that his stjle 
of expression was eclectic, that he coined no words and im- 
ported few, but contented himself with the existing stock of 
native and already naturalized foreign terms — the excellence 
of his diction consisting in the judgment and taste of his 
selection, and his mutual adaptation of terms individually 
familiar. 

For the purposes of Chaucer and his age, for the expression 
of the limited range of thought and subject with which the 
English nature of his time was conversant, a limited vocabulary 
sufficed, and the existing literature of England supplied nearly 
the entire stock of words demanded for the uses of the poet. 

But in Shakespeare's da}^, though humanity, English humanity 
especially, was still the same, yet the philosophical conception 
of humanity was immensely enlarged, diversified, and enriched. 
The myriad-minded Shakespeare — as, by an application of a 
term borrowed from one of the Greek fatliers, Coleridge has so 
appropriately called him — took in this vast conception in all 
its breadth, and was endowed with a faculty of self-transforma- 
tion into all the shapes in which the nature of man has been 
incarnated. He hence required a variety of phraseologies — 
words and combinations of words — as great as the varieties of 
humanity itself are numerous. 

Now this compass and flexibility of expression could be found 
only in the language of a people who possessed such a moral 
and intellectual constitution, and had enjoyed such a moral and 
social training, as had previously fallen to the lot of no modern 
nation. 

The English people, as I have before observed, is a composite 
nation, resulting from the fusion of a Grermanic with a Scandi- 
navian and a Gallo-Roman race. Its language is made up of 
ingredients derived from sources as varied as its blood, and 
England thus unites, in its children and its speech, the ethno- 
logical elements, which, in their separate action in the social and 



Lect. XII. THE BBITISH JS^ATION 567 

political life of Continental Europe, have shown themselves most 
efficient in all great and worthy achievement. 

In the political history and condition of the England of 
Elizabeth's time, there were circumstances eminently favourable 
to many-sided intellectual progress, and to the development of a 
wide variety of individual character. Although the different 
nationalities, which had contributed to the population of Eng- 
land, had become so far ampJgamated as to have produced a 
recognizable uniformity of character, yet the chemical combina- 
tion had not been so complete as wholly to extinguish the sepa- 
rate traits of each. These had propagated, and still propagate, 
themselves more or less unmixed, from century to century, just 
as, in human and brute life, peculiarities of remote ancestry 
manifest themselves in late descendants, and often reappear in 
lines where for generations they had seemed to be extinct. 
Hence, the English have in all ages been remarkable for indi- 
viduality, and what we call originality, or, if you please, eccen- 
tricity or oddity of character. 

These supposed individualities usually combine, with some- 
thing that is peculiar to the man John or Peter, much more that 
is common to a nation, a family, or a class, and the eccentric 
person is, in reality, oftener a typical or representative man than 
an anomaly. He is noticed as a strange or peculiar individual, 
not because his character is a departure from, the general laws 
of humanity, but because he is, locally or chronologically, sepa- 
rated from the class to which he belongs, and we observe him 
as an isolated phenomenoD, not as an instance of a species,* 

* True imaginatiye conception oi character, whetlier in dramatic or in narrative 
literature, depends more upon power of observation than of invention. The 
truest personages in fiction are those most accurately copied from actual life, and 
the impression produced upon us hy a character in a work Ox imagination is just 
ill proportion to the degree in which we recognize it as real. AVe do not know, 
historically, how far Shakespeare drew from individiial nature, how far his per- 
sonages are portraits ; but modern criticism and literary history are continually 
accumulating evidence to prove that all great artists record what they see, much 
more frequently than they invent what they have never witnessed. 

Modern English literature has not produced a more Shakespearian — I might 



568 THE BBITISH NATION Lect. XII. 

The free development of these various forms and types of 
humanity in England ha,s been much favoured by a detached 
geographical position, "vvhich has protected the nation against 
controlling foreign influences, by the extended commerce and 
navigation, which its long line of coast, its numerous harbours, 
its coal and tin, the excellent quality of its wool, and some 
other native products, have secured to it, and perhaps in a still 
greater degree by the character of its political institutions, 
which have been, from a remote age, of a more popular and 
liberal character than those of any of the great Continental 
states. 

English life, in the sixteenth century, was full of multifarious 
experiences. There had always been a greater number and 
variety of stimulating tendencies and influences, and greater 
practical liberty of yielding to them, in England than in any 
other modern nation ; and consequently, in the time of Shakes- 
peare, the human intellect, the human heart, affections, and 
passions, were there more fully and variously developed, and 
the articulate expression of all these mental and moral con- 
ditions and impulses more cultiva^ted and diversified, than in 
any contemporaneous people. 

In all the facilities for the observation of human life and 
nature on a w^ide and comprehensive scale, the Englishman 6f 
Shakespeare's time was at a more advanced point than has even 
yet been reached in the society of any other of the Gothic or 
Eomance nations. This is one of the reasons why the plays of 
Shakespeare have such an incontestable superiority over the 
drama of all other modern countries, and why so many thoughta 
which, in the recent literature of Continental Europe, have been 
hailed as new revelations, are, to the Englishman, but the thou- 
sandth repetition of old and familiar oracles, or generalizations 

say a more original — comic character than Lever's Mujor Monsoon in Charles 
O'Malley. But Major Monsoon is well known to be a minutely accurate portrait 
of the character, a faithful chroniole of the sayings and doings, of a real living 
person. 



Lect. XII. CnAUCER AND SHAKESPEAEE 569 

whicli have, from time immemorial, been matters of too uni- 
versal and every-day consciousness to have been thought worthy 
of a place in English literature at all. 

Shakespeare stood, to the age of Elizabeth and of James, in 
just the position which Chaucer occupied with respect to that 
of Edward III. and of Eichard II. ; and in these two authors, the 
genius and the literature of their respective ages reached its 
culminating point. For the excellence of each, all preceding 
English history and literature was a necessary preparation, and 
the dialect of each was composed by an application of the same 
principles to the philological material which earlier labourers 
had gathered for them. 

The material thus prepared for the tw^o great masters of the 
English tongue was in a very different state v/hen it passed 
under their respective manipulation; and it may be seriously 
questioned whether, simply as a philological constructor, Chaucer 
were not the greater architect of the two. In Chaucer's time, 
every department of the language was rude, defective, and un- 
polished, and the task of enriching, harmonizing, and adapting 
was performed by him alone. Shakespeare had been preceded 
by a multitude of skilful artists, who had improved and refined 
all the various special vocabularies which make up the totality 
of the English language ; and the common dialect which more 
or less belongs to all imaginative composition had been carried 
by others to almost as high a pitch of perfection as is found in 
Shakespeare himself. 

Chaucer, as a linguistic reformer, had great advantages over 
Shakespeare, in possessing a better philological training. He 
grew up in an almost equal familiarity with French, then a 
highly cultivated dialect, and with his mother tongue, and he 
was also well acquainted with Latin and with Italian ; but we 
have no reason to believe that Shakespeare had acquired any- 
thing more than the merest smattering of any language but 
his own. 

But although the dialect of Shakespeare does not exhibit the 



570 Shakespeare's diction Lect, xii. 

same relative superiority as that of Chaucer over all older and 
contemporaneous literature, its absolute superiority is, neverthe- 
less, unquestionable. I have before had occasion to remark that 
the greatest authors very often confine themselves to a restricted 
vocabulary, and that the power of their diction lies, not in the 
multitude of words, but in skilful combination and adaptation 
of a few. This is strikingly verified by an examination of the 
stock of words employed by Shakespeare. He introduces, 
indeed, terms borrowed from every art and every science, from 
all theoretical knowledge and all human experience; but his 
entire vocabulary little exceeds fifteen thousand words, and of 
these a large number, chiefly of Latin origin, occur but once or 
at most twice in his pages. The affluence of his speech arises 
from variety of combination, not from numerical abundance. 
And yet the authorized vocabulary of Shakespeare's time pro- 
bably embraced twice or thrice the number of words which he 
found necessary for his purposes ; for though there were at that 
time no dictionaries which exhibit a great stock of words, yet in 
perusing Hooker, the old translators, and the early voyagers and 
travellers, we find a verbal wealth, a copiousness of diction, 
which forms a singular contrast with the philological economy 
of the great dramatist. 

In his theory of dramatic construction, Shakespeare owes little 
— in his conception of character, nothing — to earlier or con- 
temporary artists ; but in his diction, everything except felicity 
of selection and combination. The existence of the whole 
copious English vocabulary was necessary, in order that his 
marvellous gift of selection might have room for its exercise. 
Without a Cimabue and a Giotto, a Fra Angelico and a Perugino, 
there could not have been a Kaphael ; and all previous English 
philology and literature were indispensable to the creation of a 
medium, through which such revelations of man as had not yet 
been made to man might be possible to the genius of a Shake- 
speare, 



INDEX. 



ALEXANDER the Great, story of, 
196 
Alexander, Prof., monosyllabic sonnets, 

98 
Alfred, King, llnkno^vn to early English 

literature, 230 
Ancren Eiwle, The, 169 
Anglo-Saxon art, 105 

— Chronicle, 104 

— language, character of, 92 

— • — origin of, 45, 48 

mixed, 47, 55 

our knowledge of, 88 

Latin words in, 60 

not English, 56 

pronunciation of, 62, 69 

orthography of, 65, 69 

inflections in, loss of, 107, HI 

grammar of, 119 

derirative and composite, 95, 

113 

Tocabulary of, 89, 93, 94 

moral and intellectual Tocabulary 

of, early obsolete, 135, 130, 

443 
formation of words in, 113 

— literature, loss of, 11 

— — no influence on English, 100 
imhistoric, 102—105 

— manuscripts, age of, 54 

— people, origin of, 43, 49 
and Celts, 60, 85 

and Scandinavians, 62 — 69 

and Normans, 103, 106 

— translation of Gospels, 96 
Armenian language, construction in, 48 
Aseham, Eoger, works, 551 



CUK 

BACON, Lord, essays, 549 
Ballads, Old English, 13, 527 
Beowulf, poem of, 101 
Berners, Lord, translation of Eroissart, 

495 
Biondelli, remarks on the dialects of 

Italy, 338 
Body and Soul, Dialogue between, 240 
Boethius, Alfred's extracts from, 133 
Brunetto Latini, why he wrote in 

French, 243 



CANALE, Tilartino de, why he wrote 
in French, 243 
Catalan, monosyllabic poems in, 97, 117 
Caxton, dialect of, 483, note ; 490 
■ — influence of, on English language 

and literature, 483 
Celtic etymologies, 85, 542 
Chaucer, copies and editions of, 17 

— Grammar of, IS 

— Canterbury Tales, 417 

— and Gower, Lecture ix., and specially, 

428 

— influence on English, 381—388 
— • and Eroissart, 395 

— Eomaunt of the Rose, 390, 402 
Cheke, Sir John, Hurt of Sedition, 521 

New Testament, 521, 532 

Cimbrie, changes of letter in, 195 
Classical learning and Reformation, 507, 

524, 553 

— literature, loss of, 11 
Commerce, vocabulary of, 292 
Contzen, "VVanderungen der Kelten, 31 
Curtasye, Boke of, 291 



572 



INDEX 



DEFEEENCE to great names in lite- 
rature, 342 
Dialects, diyergence of, 54, 82 
Drama, dialect of, 564 
Bulcarnon, etymology of, 126, note 
Dutch literatiu'e, old, value of, 447 



TT'Einal, in English and French, 456 
-^ Edward III., Poem on the Death 

of, 287 
Emphasis, changes in, 67 
England and the Papacy, 1, 9, 340 
English language, foreign constructions 
in, 74 

changes in, 33, 257 

commencement of, 140, 145, 262 

dialects in, 151 

grammar of, 21 

mixed, 47 

little used for official purposes 

before fifteenth century, 479 

periods in, 143 

vocabulary of, in thirteenth cen- 

tmy, 140, 260 
■ — literature, commencement of, 146, 
188, 259, 262 

• chronology of, 2 

essential character of, 5 

independence of, 5, 6 

early, unhistorical, 226, 230 

minor poems, early, 242 

— manuscripts, 440 

— nation imbued with Eomance cul- 

ture, 401 

— nationality, character of, 5QQ, 568 

— people, first existence of, 275 
Euphuism in English literature, 544 



T^ABLES, popular, antiquity of, 396 
J.. Fer in Kyng Horn, meaning of, 

215 
Fifteenth century, minor poems of, 465 
Fisher, Bishop, style of, 493 
French language, double form of, 23 

mixed, 58 

common litercary language of 

Europe in thirteenth century, 

243 

— — use of in England, 336 

— words how introduced into English, 

265 
Frisic dialects, 73 



LAY 

Frisic, pronunciation of, 51 
Froissart as an liistorian, 487 
— in England, 336 



GENDEE, grammatical, 108 
Germanic dialects, 19, 51, 76, 80 
Golding's translation of Ovid, 555 
Gothic, how used in this coiu*se, 41 
Gower's Confessio Amantis, 432 
Grammar, study of, 26, 27 
in England, 507 — 550 



HAWES, Pastyme of Pleasure, 512 
Heimskringla, Danish critic's opi- 
nion of, 105 
Henry III,, proclamation of, 189 
Hereford's share in Wycliffite versions, 

344, 360, 440 
Hey wood, John, works of, 525 
Historical literature of Middle Ages, 

10, 65 
Ilolinshed's Chronicle, 537 
Hooker, Ecclesiastical Polity, 559 
Horn, Kyng, Gcste of, 211 
Humour, cliaracteristic of English lite- 
rature, 298, 300 

— v/anting in Anglo-Saxon literature, 

298 

— and wit products of culture, 299 
hw, sound of, 171 



TCELANDIC sagas, character of, 254, 
X note 

Icelandic vocabulary, 94 
Individuality of character, 567 
Invention in literature, 398 
Italian dialects, note on, 337 
Italy, traditional culture in, 299 
itv, sound of, Q5, 171 



TAjMES I., of Scotland, works of, 457 

LANGLANDE. 8ce Piers Ploughman 
Language, liow affected by great 
authors, 382 

by external causes, 147, 259 

— how classed, 106 
Latimer, sermons of, 517 
Layamon, Chronicle of, 154 



\ 



INDEX 



573 



LIB 

Libel of English Policy, 468 

Lillie, the Eupliuist, 544 

Linguistic studies, 28 

Literary property, 398 

Literature, national, what constitutes, 

263 
Local dialects, 509, oiote 
Lollards in England, 7 
Lord's Prayer in different dialects, 76 
Lovelif, Tulgar misuse of, 564, 7iotc 
Luxur}'-, not inconsistent with grossness 

of manners, 291 
Lydgate, works of, 464 
Lyric poetry, Early English, 253 



MACAEONIC poetry, English, 244 
of Ausonius, 249 

Manderille, Sir John, extract from, 271 

Toeabulary of, 2:8 

Minot, Laurence, poems of, 277 
Miracle plays, sermon against, 443 
IMirrour for Magistrates, 535 
Mceso-Gothic text of Matthew viii,, 

393 
— language, 90 
Monsoon, Major, m Charles O'Malley, 

568, note 
More, Sir Thomas, English works of, 

501, 528 
Morte d' Arthur, 488 
Southey's criticism on, 487 



"STATURE, appreciation and love of. 

1^ 415 

NTautical dialect, 334 

.Nibeimigen Lied, 19 

Xorman conquest of England, effects 

of, 138 
Normans in En.Qjland, 138 







Kormal sound of, Qo 
9 Occleve, Thomas, works of, 445 
Ohther's Narrative, extracts from, 125 
Ormulum, the, 177 
Orthography and pronunciation, 194 
Owl and Nightingale, 205 



PALSGRAVE, French grammar, 509 
Papacy, ascription of Divine attri- 
butes to, 8, 34 



SCI 

Parsing machine, Brown's, 40 

Participles in Gothic languages, 72 

Pecock's Repressor, 473 

People, meaning of ^he word, 275 

Pet words, national, 564 

Phaer's translation of Virgil, 555 

Philology neglected, 25, 39 

Piers Pioughman, date and character of, 

295, 334 

imitators of, 334 

metre of, 286 

Political Poems, Early English, 249 
Poetry, dialect of, 149 
Promptorium Par^^llorum, 509 
Pronunciation of Danish and Swedish, 

68 

— of Spanish and Portuguese, 68 
Pm:vey, revision of V/'ycliffite versions, 

344. 362 

— version of Psalm cii., 376 

— on translation, 363 

Puttenham, Arte of English Poesy, 552 



RECORDS of common life, philo- 
logical value of, 452 
Reformation and classical learning, 507, 
524, 553 

— effects of, 12 

Regular and irregular verbs, 377 
Religious dialect in English, 365 
Rhyme and Romance words, 390, 

515 
Ricliard Cceur de Lion, poem on, 226 
Richard II., poem on, 334 
Robert of Brunne, 235 
Robert of Gloucester, Chronicle, 231 

Lives of the Saints, 233 

Roman de la Rose, and Chaucer's ver- 
sion, 445 

— Dutch translation of, 447 
Bomance, hov/ used in this course, 42 
Romance languages, origin and vjharac- 

ter of, 15, 37 

— oldest specimens of, 71 
Runic characters, 69 



S. 



Verbal ending in, 216 
5 Sackville, w^orks of,; 535 



Satirical poems against clergy, 251 
Scandinavian languages, 52, 81 
Science and art, influence of, on English 
vocabulary, 558 



674 



INDEX 



Seetzen's use of Platt-Deutscli, 838 
Senses, names and division of, in 

Anglo-Saxon and Old English, 135 
Shakespeare and Chaucer, 569 
Shakespeare and the English language, 

569 
Sidney, Sir Philip, works of, 547 
Skelton, works of, 511 
Sounds, simple and compound, 171, 

oiote 
• — foreign, appreciation of, 87 
Spenser, Edmund, works of, 548 
Stanihurst, works of, 538 
Surrey and Wyatt, works of, 515 
Sui'tees' Psalter, 216 
Sylvester, translation of Du Partas, 

647 



THEOLOGY, study of, in England, 
506, 558 
— dialect of, 493 
Thomas a Becket on the Papacy, 8 
Translation, practice of, 412 
Translations, effect oij on English, 653 



Travel and commerce, effect of, on 

English, 557 
Tyndale, New Testament, 505, 511, 530 

fT Normal sound of, Q6 
^ 5 Ulfilas, Bishop, 90, 91 

Unities, dramatic, 526, 537 

Urban, Pope, 8 

T7ERSIFICATI0N, Gothic and Eo- 
V mance, 276, 283, 284 

WIT, product of culture, 299 
Words individually considered, 
383, 442 

— in combination, 384 

Wycliffe and his school. Lecture, viii., 
pp. 339—378 

— Apology for the Lollards, 367 

— commentary on Gospels, 36G 

— New Testainent, 370 

— literary influence of, 371 

— opinions of the Papacy, and adTict 
to the Pope, 8 



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Works of 3 I2m(^ 

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Rarest Books in English Language . . 4 small 8vo 12 00 

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New Testament with Notes 




I 


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24 


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Africa, Future of 




X 


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of 


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i2mo 
i2mo 
i2mo 


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2 CO 

I 75 


f5 

64 


I 


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;^i25 


65 


I 


i2mo 


1 25 


69 



8vo ea. 5 00 66-68 



i2mo 
i6mo 



3 50 
I 50 



I crown 8vo 3 00 



l2mo I 50 



8vo 



2 00 



i2mo I 50 



l2mo ea. i 35 



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70 

71 
114 

72 

V 

72 

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73 

74 
74 
75 

76 
76 
76 



77 

79 
78 
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80 

78 
80 



81 
81 
81 

83 

82 
82 

83 
86 



84-85 
86 

87 



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Book of 

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X 


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50 


89 


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86 




i2mo 


I 


50 


90 




l2mo 


2 


00 


13 




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;?i 


SO 


90 




8vo 3 75 91 
8vo ea. 3 75 92-93 
i6mo I 50 94 




i2mo 






94 




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8vo 


;6 50 

3 50 


% 










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00 


37 


X 


i2mo 


I 


50 


— 


tn I 


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6 


75 98-99 


ll X 


i2mo 


I 


50 


100 


X 


i2mo 





50 


88 


2 


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4 


00 


ICX) 


X 
X 

X 
X 


8vo 
8vo 

8vo 
X2mo 


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4 

5 

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CO 

50 


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102 
ia3 



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Book of Rubies . 
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Queens of American Society 



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IS 00 lis 

10 00 121 

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6 00 118 



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